Quidditch League Entries
by JBrocks917
Summary: A collection of one-shots, set everywhere in the HP-verse. Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Rated T to cover all stories. Genres/characters are for latest tale. Currently have 11 Trio Era, 1 Next-Gen, 7 Marauders' Era, and 2 cross-gen. Contains entries for Seasons 5, 6, and 7.
1. Table of Contents

**Table of Contents:**

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 2: I Was With You**

Follow George through the year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and watch as he learns to move on from his twin's death, discover new relationships, and find solace in others.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 3: A New Friend**

Watch as what was going to be a normal pure-blood function turns into one of the most fun nights in Sirius' life.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 4: Lights, Camera, Action!**

In this chapter, see what crazy shenanigans Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy get up to during a simple trip to the movies.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 5: Free**

On that fateful night, Regulus Arcturus Black, with the help of one Kreacher, betrayed the Dark Lord.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 6: Do You Think They're Proud of Me?**

On the Halloween of 1981, one thing goes differently, and this affects everything.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 7: The Perfect Date**

When Lily Evans finally agrees to go out with James Potter, he is determined to make sure nothing goes wrong.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 8: Potter and Black's Magical Eats**

When Remus finally finds a job at Potter and Black's Magical Eats, he discovers that the owners are not what they seem, but a bit more _magical_.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 9: The Problems with Having a Nemesis**

After another incident involving Snape, James, and Sirius, Remus finally has enough of his friends' treatment of 'Snivellus'.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 10: The One Called Freak**

Told in a fairy-tale format, this is how Harry Potter finally finds a place to call home.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 11: Spider!**

When Ron encounters a spider once more, Hermione realizes that Ron's fear of spiders isn't just a fear, and helps — well, _tries_ to help him get over it.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 12: The Speech of the Unknown**

After a mishap with a Time-Turner, Cuthbert is thrown back to the American Revolution, and given a chance to influence history.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 13: The Forest Foray**

The Marauders don't have the best judgement. So it's really not a surprise when they decide to explore the Forbidden Forest, and almost get themselves killed in the process.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 14: All We See is Sky (For Forever)**

James Potter. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew. Four boys; one destiny. This is when history was made, and these four boys first met.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 15: A Tale of Snidgets and Unicorns**

When Harry Potter gets caught up in all of his work as an Auror, his best friends Hermione and Ron decide to bring him and his godson Teddy to the Modesty Rabnott Snidget Reservation as a way to relax. However, the trip turns out to be much more exciting than they had planned...

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 16: The Creation of Canary Creams**

During the testing of the first prototype for Canary Creams, George Weasley gets stuck as a canary. So Fred Weasley and Lee Jordan must embark on an epic quest to return the third member of their fellowship to a human being.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 17: I'll Be With You**

Fred Weasley, in the year before the Battle of Hogwarts. Some things are the same as during peacetime: there are things like Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, friendships, family, Christmas, and their birthday. And yet, through it all, Fred's death looms ever closer... [Companion to "I Was With You," but can stand alone.]

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 18: Mystery in the Mansion**

When Harry and Ron find a secret passageway on an Auror mission, the Golden Trio works together to solve a series of clues and discover something that had been hidden for centuries.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 19: Imitating Life**

Lord Voldemort is afraid of Death. That is no secret. It shouldn't have been a surprise that he'd return as a ghost.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 20: Dangers of Dependency**

Harry was a Horcrux. Ron and Hermione were "emotionally close" to him, as his best friends. We all know what happens if you become fond of or dependent on a Horcrux...

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 21: Career Consultation**

Minerva McGonagall holds her career advice meetings for Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Fred Weasley, and George Weasley.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 22: Black and Grey**

Hyacinth Grey is pregnant with Sirius Black's child, but though he wants to be there for it, Hyacinth is worried whether Sirius can handle the responsibility, and if he would be a good influence.

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 23: The Day After**

The day after Halloween, Harry, Ron, and Hermione spend their first day as friends. After all, you can't jump straight from being enemies to "The Golden Trio."

* * *

 **Jump to Chapter 24: The Beginning of the End**

After a first year breaks her arm, Ginny has to find a way to make sure people can live indefinitely in the Room of Requirement.


	2. I Was With You

**Season Five, Round Five: I Was With You**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Lupine (as inspired by Remus Lupin): Write about a character demonstrating resilience after a personal trauma or tragedy (for example, ill health, a death, etc.)**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **4\. (emotion) lust**

 **9\. (word) serene**

 **11\. (poem) 'Flower of Love' by Oscar Wilde**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 961**

 **Beta-ed By: WritingBlock and ipsa dixit. Thank you!**

* * *

One month after Fred's death, George could be found sitting at a stool in the Leaky Cauldron, drowning his sorrows in Firewhiskey and apologizing over and over to the air next to him, who he seemed to think was Fred. Other people in the pub kept looking at him oddly, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

•••••

Two months after Fred's death, George could be found in his bedroom at home, staring unblinkingly at a picture of him and his deceased twin on his bedside table. They both had their arms thrown around each other's shoulders, laughing so hard that tears of mirth were running down their faces. There was a tear running down present-day George's cheek—though for an entirely different reason. He turned down the picture, unable to look at the bright, happy face of his twin any longer.

•••••

Three months after Fred's death, George could be found placing all of his belongings into a trunk, preparing to move back into the flat above thei— _his_ joke shop. The rest of his family wasn't sure if he was ready to leave the Burrow, but he didn't think he could stand any more of the pitying glances he received at every turn.

•••••

Four months after Fred's death, George could be found cleaning up the shop, restocking the shelves, purging the shop of any and all mirrors (his reflection gave him too many painful reminders of Fred), and setting up a memorial to Fred next to the counter. He would have just moped around all day, or not have even gotten out of bed, but he knew Fred wouldn't have wanted him to sit around all day and make himself miserable, even though he very much wanted to do just that.

•••••

Five months after Fred's death, George could be found at the grand re-branding of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. A giant crowd had shown up, and at the end of the day, the shop had almost been emptied of its products. His family had come by to congratulate him, and had even bought some items. Even with the shop's popularity, there was still a hole in his heart where Fred used to be. _Fred should have been here,_ he thought. _But then, we wouldn't even be having this ceremony._

•••••

Six months after Fred's death, George could be found at Ickle Ronniekins and Hermione's wedding. He had charmed Ron's shoes to squeak when he walked, but sadly, Ron had fixed that easily. If Fred was there, he would've done a stronger spell than George's. Fred wasn't there.

•••••

Seven months after Fred's death, George could be found having a chat with Angelina Johnson, his long-time friend and secret crush. They had struck up a conversation when she had come by to say hello, and Angelina promised to come by again after a few hours of conversation. George needed the socializing.

•••••

Eight months after Fred's death, George realized that his feelings for Angelina were stronger than he had originally thought. He ignored them, however, because it was painful to think of finally getting together with her without Fred's good-natured teasing. Besides, he wasn't ready for a relationship yet. Instead, he threw himself into creating new products, and, thus, a wave of new products was released, and then sold out within a week. Fred used to be the one who came up with the products. Fred wasn't able do that anymore.

•••••

Nine months after Fred's death, George could be found at a small Muggle cafe, on a date with Angelina, handing her a flower. George had realized that his feelings were reciprocated, and so, he had gathered up the courage to ask if she wanted to go get lunch together, and things had continued from there, even though George had a lingering thought of Fred in the back of his mind. From the look on her face, he knew that Angelina had a similar feeling.

•••••

Ten months after Fred's death, George could be found sitting on the edge of a lake, skipping stones and thinking about Fred. He hadn't had much time to, between the shop, Hermione and Ron's wedding, and Angelina. It was serene, with the trees swaying softly and the insects buzzing. Sometimes, George wished that he could go back to the time before the war, when he and Fred were inseparable, and their biggest problems had to do with pranks and girls and the next Howler from Mum. Alas, no hand can gather up the fallen withered petals of the rose of youth.

•••••

Eleven months after Fred's death, George could be found in the back room of his shop, helping with the preparations for the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts Victory celebration. He was a part of the team that was setting up the memorial to the fallen, with every one of the dead's names carved into a large slab of stone. He had offered to carve all of the names in by hand. He had carved 'Fred Gideon Weasley' into the marble with the utmost care. It seemed cruel that they were going to celebrate without all of the people there, especially his twin, but the pain was getting better.

•••••

One year after Fred's death, George could be found at Fred's grave, laying flowers on the soil. Sitting down in front of the grave, George told Fred about all he had done that year — about the success of their shop, his relationship with Angelina, and his work on the war memorial. A soft wind blew through the graveyard, brushing a few strands of hair out of George's face. _I know_ , said the voice of Fred, carried by the breeze. _I was with you._


	3. A New Friend

**Season Five, Round Six: A New Friend**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- I know Fleamont and Euphemia are James's parents, but for the purposes of my story, I'll use Charlus and Dorea.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Kick-Ass**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **1\. (word) token**

 **6\. (word) visitor**

 **14\. (object) mirror**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1002**

 **Beta-ed By: desertredwolf and obscurialdefenseclub. Thank you!**

* * *

On one boring summer day, a six-year-old Sirius Black was dressing up for a Pure-blood function.

He was dying to play outside, but Mother and Father told him that he and Reggie, his brother, had to uphold the family name. So, with a final glance at the mirror and a sigh, he straightened his robes and tromped downstairs to wait for the visitors to arrive.

His cousins — Bella, Cissa, and Andy — arrived first, coming one by one through the Floo. "Come in!" said Mother, welcoming them with an stiff hug. She wasn't exactly used to giving them.

Andy's expression was stormy, but her face brightened up when she saw Sirius. "Hey, how's my favorite cousin?" she asked, as an excited Sirius lead her to where he knew Reggie was struggling with his robes in his room.

"Good! Well, kinda. Mother doesn't like me and Reggie's games," said Sirius. "REGGIE! ANDY'S HERE!" he yelled down the hall.

Reggie came out of the room, tripping on his robes. "Hi!" he said happily.

"Hi, Reg!" she said, going up to him and hugging him.

The Floo chimed, and Sirius rushed downstairs to see. He didn't like his family all that much, but he did like Uncle Alphard, so Sirius was hoping it was him.

Instead, new people came out, the mother holding hands with a boy his age with messy black hair and hazel eyes. "Dorea," Mother hissed, pushing Sirius back, "what are you doing here, you filthy blood-traitor?"

Sirius gasped in surprise. She was a blood-traitor? Although... blood-traitors did tend to be more fun, so he waved over the boy. He squirmed out of his mother's grasp and ran over. His mother didn't seem to notice.

"Hello! I'm Sirius Orion Black III." said Sirius, sticking out his hand to shake.

"Wow, that's a long name!" said the boy, shaking the hand. "I'm James."

"I don't have a long name! You just have a short one!"

"My name is not short. My full name is James Fleamont Potter!"

"Well, no matter how long your name is, I'm glad you're here," conceded Sirius.

"Now, wanna play?" asked James.

"Sure! Play what?" said Sirius, ecstatic for a play-mate his age.

"What about...Aurors and Dark Wizards?"

"What's that?" asked Sirius, cocking his head to the side.

"It's a game where one person has to catch the other person. Catch me if you can!" yelled James, running off. Sirius dashed after him, laughing hard.

They ran all around the house, ducking in and out of corners, occasionally passing by a family member, who would shriek or shake their head disapprovingly. Finally, he followed James all the way upstairs, where he found him keeping Reggie and Andy captive.

"I'll save you!" Sirius yelled, grabbing a quill and waving it like a wand. James laughed so hard he fell over. "YES!" cried Sirius, rushing to where Andy and Reggie were giggling.

"Here," said Andy, taking a Chocolate Frog out of her pocket. "Take this as a token of my appreciation."

Sirius didn't know what some of the words that Andy used meant, as she was a big girl and used big words, but he snatched the frog, ripped it open, and took a huge bite out of its head.

"Wow," said James, peering over his shoulder. "You got Merlin!" Sirius took a glance at the card, and realized he, indeed, had gotten Merlin.

"Well, it's mine! You can't catch me!" said Sirius, rushing off again. Again, he dashed away through the house, this time, catching snippets of Mother and James' mother's argument.

"You shouldn't be here, dirtying the house of our ancestors!"

"Well, I was hoping to fix our relationship, but it seems you don't want to!"

"There's probably a reason that benefits you! How do I know you won't send your filthy little blood-traitor and Mudblood pals to get rid of our family heirlooms?"

" _Family heirlooms?_ They are objects filled with Dark Magic! I wasn't planning on doing that, but thank you for the idea!"

Finally, Sirius was caught by James after he tried — and failed — to blend in with a section of the wall.

"You are under arrest for owning a Dark object. Hands behind your back," said James in a professional tone.

Sirius laughed as he put his hands where indicated. James led him upstairs, where he tasked Andy and Reggie (who were playing some game involving weird hand motions) with being the jail-keepers.

"Don't let him escape!" James had said, plopping himself down on the floor.

After a few minutes more, their parents finally stopped arguing, and James' parents came to where they were playing.

"Hey, James, ready to go?" she said, gathering James into a hug. Sirius was confused by how nice she was. His mother always yelled at him and hurt him.

"Aw, mum, five more minutes?" begged James, looking up at her with puppy eyes.

"No, that's enough. If you want, we can ask your friend's mum if he can come over," said James' father firmly, but grinning at his attempt.

Sirius sighed dejectedly at that. His mother never let him go out and play, or let him do anything fun. Oh, well. Maybe he would see James at Hogwarts.

"Bye, Sirius!" said James, hugging him. Sirius froze and tensed up. He had never been hugged before.

James hadn't seemed to notice. He and his parents exited the room, and soon, all of the guests disappeared.

Sirius finally allowed himself to be nervous. His parents, especially his mother, would be furious at him. He had played noisily with a blood traitor. That was _three_ offenses! He was worried they would lock him in the broom cupboard with a colony of doxies and a boggart. James had probably never been punished like him. He had nice parents.

 _Do what you want_ , thought Sirius savagely to his parents, suddenly not afraid anymore with the thought of James and his family. _I had true fun for the first time in my life._


	4. Lights, Camera, Action!

**Season Five, Round Seven: Lights, Camera, Action!**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. At the part that I won't spoil, it ended up becoming Inside Out. Hopefully, you'll know what I'm talking about when you get there. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- I'm not British, so sorry for any inconsistencies! I tried to look stuff up, but there's only so much Google can do, so I mostly based it off of my own experience.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Write about a witch or wizard trying to explain to a magical child how Muggle technology works.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **6\. (setting) movie theater**

 **14\. (word) cartoons**

 **15\. (dialogue) "What do you mean, these pictures don't move?"**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 956**

 **Beta-ed By: Lilly Caia, Emiliya Wolfe, and TartCat207. Thank you!**

* * *

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

That one line, those five words were how Scorpius Malfoy found himself in line to get popcorn with his friend, Albus Potter. He himself saw absolutely no point at all in watching what Muggles called a 'movie'.

He didn't exactly hate Muggles, his mother had made sure of that, but he still thought them to be primitive beings. When he had voiced his thoughts to Albus, his best friend had exclaimed, "If anyone is primitive, it's us! You should see what kind of crazy, awesome things they come up with."

Scorpius truly doubted that, but he was too good a friend to deny Albus, and so ━ graciously, if anyone asked him ━ he allowed his best friend to submit him to this higher form of torture. If anyone in his father's circles asked him about it, he knew he would simply tell them how very 'cute' the Muggles had been. A little bit like trained puppies, just slightly more intelligent. He had learned to add just the right amount of disdain to his voice to appease even the most opinionated person.

"Next!" called the elderly man at the counter. He sounded extremely grumpy, and had a face to match. Scorpius was glad that Albus was the one who had to do the talking.

"One large popcorn with lots of butter, and two sodas, please." requested Albus, handing over some strange and colorful slips of paper. Scorpius thought that Muggle money was definitely a lot harder to handle than Magical money. So, first, you had both coins and paper, and they even came in multiples of one, two, five, ten, twenty, fifty, and one hundred! Honestly, the magical system of twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon was way easier to keep track of.

Once they had received their popcorn and sodas from the scowling old man — really, if the guy hated his job so much, he should just quit and find a new one —, they headed to their theater, passing by a couple of weird paintings.

"Hey, what are these things?" asked Scorpius, pausing to examine the pictures. They looked like paintings, but felt smooth, and they didn't move.

"They're posters, advertising the other movies that they show here. They're like paintings, but made differently. I thought you would've seen one before, seeing as they make them for Quidditch teams," said Albus, seeing what he was looking at and laughing. Scorpius didn't know what was so funny.

"I know, but these ones are frozen!" insisted Scorpius, prodding the people in the painting. Maybe they were shy.

"They're not supposed to move!" said Albus, snorting and attempting to drag Scorpius away. People were starting to stare as they passed. "Now, hurry up, or we'll be late to the movie!"

"What do you mean, these pictures don't move?" Scorpius said questioningly, wiggling his arm out of Albus' grip. Albus didn't answer, just started laughing again.

Finally, when Albus was able to get him away from the posters, they got themselves settled in the theater (the seat of the chair stayed up, and to sit, you had to push it down, which Scorpius thought was tedious), marching up the stairs and seating themselves close to the back. Apparently, these were the best seats, because you didn't have to crane your neck to see the screen, but you weren't too far to see the details, either. Plus, according to Albus, there were no couples snogging in the middle. Scorpius had decided to take his word for it, to be on the safe side.

Scorpius suddenly jumped, hearing the sound of amplified voices and noises coming from the direction of the large, black wall in the front.

Well, actually, it wasn't black anymore. It lit up, showing moving images and loud sounds. Sometimes, it was bright and colorful, with happy music, but other times, it was dark and gloomy, with low, tense music. Once, a warning came up saying not to use phones, but from what Scorpius knew, you couldn't exactly fit a telephone into your pocket. Where would the wires go?

Finally, the movie began to play, and he decided to try a bit of popcorn from the bag that Albus had bought at the front desk. Taking two pieces from the bag, he tentatively put them in his mouth. He found that they were delicious, and began to eat them more eagerly, enjoying the crunchiness as he bit into them.

As the movie progressed, he went from bursting out laughing at the jokes, to cringing on behalf of the characters, to getting frustrated at them ("Honestly, just use a simple Levitation Charm!" "These people don't have magic, remember?" "Oh, right."), to crying at the sad scenes, to spitting out all of his drink at the plot twists. The man sitting in front of him hadn't been too happy at that, and Scorpius had made sure to only take short sips after that.

Once the movie had ended and the lights had turned back on, Scorpius was practically begging to see another one.

"Please please please please _please_ _!_ Come on, that was completely amazing! We just _have_ to see another one! Please! I've never begged for anything, _anything!_ Please, we've got to!"

In the end, Albus had to employ the help of the cleaning lady to get Scorpius out of the theater before the next movie started, only to find himself stuck again at the popcorn bar. Then, Albus had to bring out the big guns and call his dad to help him out.

As Scorpius was reluctantly dragged away from the theater, he heard Albus mutter under his breath, "Just wait 'till he finds out about cartoons."


	5. Free

**Season Five, Round Nine: Free**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Broom: Write about a witch or wizard gaining freedom.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **2\. (word) defeat**

 **8\. (song) Stronger - Kelly Clarkson**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1414**

 **Beta-ed By: TartCat207**

* * *

Regulus sliced his hand open with a quick charm and pressed it to the stone wall.

They were there to destroy the locket.

* * *

 _The Dark Lord had ordered a Death Eater to surrender one of their House-Elves to him, for purposes then unknown. Regulus had offered Kreacher, sending him off with orders to return when he was finished with the Dark Lord's task, and to tell him what he had seen._

 _Later that evening, Kreacher returned, Apparating, battered and shaking, at Regulus' feet._

 _Immediately concerned, Regulus asked Kreacher what had happened._

 _Shivering, Kreacher told him that the Dark Lord had brought him to a cave. After slicing Kreacher's hand open and ordering him to press it to the cave wall, he had taken him across a large lake. Once they had arrived on an island in the middle of it, the Dark Lord had ordered Kreacher to drink the potion inside._

 _Kreacher shuddered then, and told Regulus that it had made him see things. Terrible, terrible things. Regulus was horrified._

 _As Kreacher choked on the potion, the Dark Lord had, after placing a locket in the empty basin and refilling it again, abandoned him, leaving him to the mercy of the concoction. Kreacher explained that he had only made it home because of his orders to return._

 _At that moment, Regulus decided that this was the perfect opportunity to finally defeat the Dark Lord._

* * *

And that's how Regulus and Kreacher found themselves at that dingy, old cave in the middle of nowhere, with Regulus slicing his palm open.

A bright, white light appeared, outlining a large archway, and the rock inside the line disappeared.

Regulus stepped gracefully through the archway, Kreacher following behind and shooting nervous glances around the cave.

They were standing at the edge of a pitch-black lake that was so large that Regulus couldn't see the end of it. A foggy green glow coming from the center of the lake was the only source of light, so Regulus lit his wand, but it didn't seem to help much.

He glanced around.

"Kreacher? Can you take us to the island you were talking about?"

"Yes, of course, Master Regulus!"

With a crack, Regulus and Kreacher appeared on a smooth, flat rock, which Regulus supposed was the island that Kreacher had told him about. In the center, there was a stone basin with a green liquid swirling around.

Regulus took a tentative step forward.

"Kreacher? Is this it?"

"Yes, Master. Now, I must drink the potion for you, Master."

Kreacher snapped his fingers, and a silver goblet appeared. He floated it into the potion, and it resurfaced, filled to the brim with the green liquid.

"Kreacher, make sure I finish the potion, no matter what."

And with that, Regulus snatched the goblet and drained it. The last thing he saw before his eyes snapped shut was Kreacher looking on, horrified.

"No, don't make me, I don't want —"

Kreacher felt his hands move on their own accord to tip another goblet full of potion into his master's mouth.

Regulus drank it dutifully, but once he had drained it, he retched and coughed and spluttered.

"NO!"

On it went, Kreacher's feeling of defeat growing by each cup of potion his master drank.

Finally, at the last cup, Regulus had finished the basin, and, swallowing over and over again to try and relieve his immense thirst, he crawled toward the edge of the rock and dipped his head forward.

Before he could take so much as a sip, however, he saw a hand rise up from the lake's murky depths.

Kreacher ran to where Regulus was struggling fiercely. He almost dropped the locket in his haste, but tightened his hold when Regulus gave him an extremely sharp look.

Finally, the cold, dead hands — for lack of a better term — gained the upper hand. Regulus' hold on the rock slipped, and he fought to keep his head above water.

As Regulus was dragged down, down, down, he gurgled out, "Get us out, Kreacher!"

Kreacher instantly complied, and with a _crack_ , they appeared back at the living room of Grimmauld Place.

"Water," Regulus croaked, collapsing against the couch.

"Oh, yes, of course Master Regulus!"

Kreacher snapped his fingers, and a tray with a glass and a large pitcher of water appeared.

Before Kreacher could so much as take a step, Regulus snatched the pitcher and began to take large, greedy gulps, much to the shock of Kreacher.

When the pitcher was empty, Regulus set it back down on the tray. Glancing at Kreacher, he suddenly became aware of the elf's expression.

"Sorry, Kreacher. Now, what do we do?"

"Well, Master, you said we must destroy the locket, am I correct Master?"

"Well, yes, Kreacher, but how do we destroy it? We don't have access to — wait, we do!"

Regulus pulled on a dry coat and rushed out of the room.

"Master! Where are you going? Let me take you there, Master!" said Kreacher, hurrying behind him.

Regulus paused, and slowly turned around.

"Right. Take us to Knockturn Alley, Kreacher."

With a snap of Kreacher's fingers and a _crack_ , they appeared at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, where they could see countless witches, wizards, and their elves hurrying along.

Regulus briskly walked off, every now and then nodding politely to another member of an Ancient and Noble house.

Finally, he stopped, Kreacher following behind him at just the right distance, which he had perfected over his many years.

As he entered the shop, a tinkling chime echoed throughout.

"Hello, hello, Mr. Black!" The shopkeeper sounded energetic and eager to please, although that could very well be because of Regulus' presence.

"Good afternoon," said Regulus, "Do you have any daggers or knives made of Basilisk fangs?"

"Yes, of course, right here good sir"—he slid an ivory dagger across the counter—"for a cheap price of 100,000 Galleons! You won't find a cheaper price for an artifact this rare!"

Regulus was too tired to bargain. Instead, he simply dropped a velvet money pouch on the counter and watched in amusement as the clerk's eyes grew as wide as saucers. _He's probably surprised that I didn't attempt to argue with his price, or even count out my money_ , he thought disdainfully.

"Kreacher? Wrap the dagger up and take it home."

With a bow and a crack, Kreacher disappeared.

As Regulus exited the shop, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar curtain of black hair.

"Sirius?"

Said man's head shot upwards.

"Regulus," he greeted coolly, not meeting his eyes. Meeting him gave Regulus an idea.

"Siri!" said Regulus, reverting to the old nickname in his excitement, "Do you think I could join the Order?"

Regulus didn't like the idea of having Dumbledore as a leader — it was trading one manipulative leader for another — but he was willing to make sacrifices to take down the Dark Lord.

Sirius blinked, looking obviously taken aback. He had always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

"What?"

"I want to join the Order," repeated Regulus slowly.

"How do I know you're not just going to be spying for Vol— You-Know-Who?" Sirius' eyes clouded over with suspicion.

"Here," said Regulus, extracting a few memories and placing them into conjured vials. He handed them to Sirius, and walked away like nothing had happened.

* * *

Regulus heard a knock on the door. He jumped up and began anxiously sweeping the floor with a random broom he found leaning against the wall — it could have been his Cleansweep for all he knew — as Kreacher rushed to answer the door.

"Who is disturbing Master Regulus?"

"It's me, Sirius."

"What are you doing back here, you fil—"

"Let him in," interrupted Regulus calmly, barely daring to hope.

As soon as Sirius entered the room, he blinked, surprised. Regulus had redecorated the living room, so that now, it was — well, not exactly cozy, but a bit warmer than when their parents had been in charge of decor.

"The Order has reviewed your memories, and has deemed you trustworthy enough to become a member," said Sirius, getting straight to the point. He had always done that, too.

Sirius dropped his professional tone.

"You're really betraying You-Know-Who?" Sirius sounded so _hopeful_.

"Yes," said Regulus, a lump forming in his throat.

Sirius engulfed him in an embrace, smiling brilliantly through tears. Regulus hugged him back just as fiercely, and breathed, "I'm free."


	6. Do You Think They're Proud of Me?

**Season Five, Round Ten: Do You Think They're Proud of Me?**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: One Sweet Day — Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **1\. (location) Godric's Hollow**

 **4\. (dialogue) "How could you possibly think that was a good idea?"**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1308**

 **Beta-ed By: obscurialdefenseclub. Thank you!**

* * *

 _No…_

Sirius took a final glance around the room, searching desperately for a sign that Peter; sweet, kind Peter, hadn't just betrayed Prongs, Lily, and baby Harry, his beautiful little godson.

He had had a bad feeling, so he had gone with his gut and checked on the safe house where Wormtail had supposed to be laying low, only to find the house deserted without any sign of a struggle.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was wasting time, and that Prongs and Lily and Harry could be in trouble right this second.

As he flew to Godric's Hollow, pushing his flying motorbike to its limits, he chastised himself over and over, "How could you possibly think that was a good idea?"

When he finally landed, he froze.

"No, Prongs can't be dead," muttered Sirius, rushing into what was once a house, but was now in complete ruin.

There, right there _(No, this can't be happening...)_ was Prongs, charred slightly from what he guessed was the explosion that had destroyed the house. Sirius dropped to his knees in front of the body _(What went wrong? Peter was our friend!)_ and sobbed, wishing, no, _knowing_ , that it should've been him.

Prongs hadn't done anything wrong! He had been the best brother anyone could ask for, and was the kindest person you could ever meet. Sirius, on the other hand, was a terrible person. He was brash, loud, and impulsive, and had a large temper. He had betrayed Moony, for Merlin's sake! All because of some stupid schoolyard rivalry!

 _Moony._

Sirius sobbed harder.

Moony had been innocent, after all. Thinking back, _Peter_ had been the one feeding him lies, to make _Remus_ seem like the traitor. And Sirius had gobbled up the lies just like that.

After a while, he barely recognized his own voice. Then, he realized that it wasn't his own voice. It was Harry's, most likely wailing for his parents.

It was like light was spreading from his heart. _Harry's alive!_

Suddenly, that light went out. _If Harry's crying, then what happened to Lily?_

Dreading to see what had happened, Sirius climbed the steps to the second floor. Entering Prongs and Lily's room, he froze once again.

Lily was on the floor in front of Harry's crib, her face frozen in a pleading expression. Nearby, there was a set of black robes and a bone-patterned wand. _Could it be…?_

Harry sniffled and held his arms out. Carefully, Sirius picked him up and went back downstairs, clutching his godson tightly.

Just then, he heard the sound of footsteps, and, shielding Harry with his body, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the large, silhouetted figure. It raised its hand, and then —

"Sirius! What're yeh doin' here?"

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Hagrid," he said.

"Yeh okay? It's not easy, losing yer friends like that," said Hagrid, patting Sirius' shoulder and causing his knees to buckle.

"As well as I can be, I guess." Sirius' eyes were still red and puffy from crying, and he felt slightly detached from the world, as if this were all just some nightmare. Maybe it was.

"Well, I've come 'ere to take baby 'Arry to his relatives, so —"

"Wait! You can't mean the Dursleys!" Sirius clutched Harry closer to his chest.

"The very same. Now, if yeh could just —"

"No, he can't go there! I'm his godfather; I can take him."

"Sorry, Sirius, but I 'ave orders from Dumbledore."

"Well, tell your precious _Dumbledore_ that I'm taking Harry, and that he can't do anything about it!"

And with that, Sirius dashed to his bike, jumped on, and flew away, leaving a bewildered Hagrid and the bodies of his brother and sister behind.

* * *

 _Seven Years Later:_

"Paddy?"

"Yes, Harry?"

After that fateful night, Harry had lived with him and Remus, happy and safe. Dumbledore had eventually given up on trying to send Harry to the Dursleys, so Harry was free to live in their house, and play Quidditch in the yard, and do all of the other things little boys do.

"Where's my _real_ mummy and daddy?"

"Ask Uncle Moony," said Sirius, fighting to keep his voice stable. He had never really gotten over the death of his siblings.

"But Paddy! I already did, and all he said is that they went up! So I went outside, and looked up, but they weren't there! If they were up, I would've seen them, but I didn't!" Harry stamped his foot in frustration.

"Uncle Moony was right, pup. I suppose I should take you to see them, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" said Harry, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

"Alright, Harry. Go get ready, and I'll meet you here in ten."

Ten minutes passed, and a moment later, Harry bounded down the stairs.

"Ready!"

"Okay, now. We're Flooing there. Their graves are in Godric's Hollow."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Hurry up!"

"Okay, okay! Godric's Hollow!"

In a flash of green flame, they appeared in the Godric's Hollow pub.

They stepped out and made their way over to the old graveyard.

"Paddy? Do you think they're proud of me?" asked Harry as they walked among the houses and buildings.

"Of course they are! You're the most wonderful boy in the world; they would be silly not to be. You're just bei—"

Sirius froze in shock.

"Look, Paddy! Is that Mummy and Daddy?"

What had once been a Muggle memorial for who-knows-what had turned into a statue of James and Lily holding their son.

"Yes," Sirius breathed.

"They look nice."

"That they do, Harry, that they do."

They walked to the graveyard, and once they had arrived, Harry raced between the crooked rows and looked for his parents' names. Finally, after a few minutes of searching, he yelled: "Look! I found them!"

Sirius walked over, trying to seem cool and calm. In reality, he was a bundle of nerves. He didn't quite fully understand why he was nervous. It was really just a piece of stone.

 _With James and Lily buried underneath_ , he reminded himself.

When he finally arrived, what he saw made tears come to his eyes. James and Lily had one white marble grave, with words written:

 _James Fleamont Potter_

 _Born March 27, 1960 — Died October 31, 1981_

 _Lily Jasmine Potter (née Evans)_

 _Born January 30, 1960 — Died October 31, 1981_

 _"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."_

"Wow…"

Sirius was at a loss for words. This was so beautiful. He was surprised that he hadn't visited before.

"Hi mummy, hi daddy! Can you hear me?"

Sirius was startled out of his thoughts by the voice of Harry.

"Are you proud of me? Paddy says you are, but I don't know. You died for me. All I do is play Quidditch and eat treacle tart!"

Sirius laughed.

"Like I said, of course they're proud of you! Me, on the other hand..."

Sirius turned toward the grave and gave a bitter laugh.

"Prongs? Lily?"

 _I have the best kid ever,_ thought Sirius. Harry had been perceptive enough to turn around, stuff his fingers in his ears, and hum quietly to himself.

"You know, I never said this, because I thought that we would have more time together. Thinking back, that was too hopeful. We were in the middle of a war, for Merlin's sake! Well, it was the best family a guy could ask for, you both and Moony. I don't know if I showed you this enough. And now you're gone, and I lost my chance..."

"Paddy! Look!" said Harry, pointing up at the sky. "Mummy and daddy heard us!"

"What?"

Sirius looked up, and right in the middle of a clear sky, two clouds shaped distinctly like a stag and a doe floated above.

"I guess they did, pup, I guess they did."


	7. The Perfect Date

**Season Five, Round Eleven: The Perfect Date**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Write about winning someone/thing on a rainy night.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **9\. (word) muffle**

 **13\. (phrase) walking down the road**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 903**

 **Beta-ed By: TartCat207. Thank you!**

* * *

"OHMYMERLINOHMYMERLINOHMYMERLIN!"

"Shut up, James. There are some people who are trying to sleep," groaned Sirius groggily, earning exhausted grunts of agreement from Remus and Peter.

They, the Marauders, were in their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Somehow, James had been chosen for Head Boy, so he often came back to the dorm late. Usually, however, James at least made an effort to be quiet.

"I ASKED LILY OUT, AND SHE SAID YES!" screamed James elatedly, bouncing from bed to bed in happiness, much to the annoyance of their occupants.

They all practically fell out of their beds in shock (or, most likely, from James bouncing them off).

"You can't mean Lily Evans, the girl who has loathed your very existence for the last six years? That Lily Evans?" asked Sirius, picking himself up off of the floor.

"Yes, that Lily Evans! How many other Lily Evanses do you know?"

"Wow, James! Great job!" said Peter, rubbing his eyes furiously in an attempt to wake himself up.

"Are we going to throw a party or something? This is an exceptionally momentous occasion!" said Sirius, shaking off his tiredness to jump up and rummage around in his trunk for fireworks.

"An exceptionally momentous occasion? Who are you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?" said Remus teasingly.

"Ha, ha, very funny," said Sirius, punching him lightly in the arm.

"Anyways, James, congratulations! Actually, where are you taking her? Hogsmeade isn't until next week," said Remus.

Suddenly, thoughts of walking down the road to Hogsmeade arm-in-arm with Lily vanished from James's mind.

"Er —"

"You asked out _Lily Evans_ on a date without making up a plan?" asked Peter in a disbelieving tone. He looked up at James with red, puffy eyes.

"Well, she never says yes!" said James defensively.

"You always say,"—Sirius adopted a whiny, high-pitched voice—"'Next time, I know she'll say yes! And also, I'm not nearly as handsome as my _favorite_ brother Sirius!"

James rolled his eyes, looking like he desperately wanted to whack him. "One, I don't sound like that, and two, I would never say anything like that about you, Padfoot."

"Excuse me! Of course I'm much more handsome than you! You just don't want to admit it," said Sirius, harrumphing as he looked up from his trunk.

Remus sighed.

"Well, either way, it looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

Just then, fireworks exploded overhead, showering them in sparks of light.

"Yay us," said Sirius dispiritedly.

* * *

"Toss me that! Thanks!"

"Where do I put this?"

"Ah, just shove it there."

" _'J_ _ust shove it'?_ This has to be absolutely perfect!"

"We know, alright! We're trying, James!"

"A 'thank you' would be nice."

"Sorry. I mean, thank you. And I suppose that _can_ go over there."

They were in a secluded area on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, setting up an area where James and Lily could have a romantic picnic. It was surrounded by bushes, so the couple could have some privacy.

"Is everything set?" asked James, surveying their work.

"I think so," answered Sirius.

"Now, all we have to do is wait until seven," said Remus.

They all walked away, hoping with all of their hearts that it all would be enough to win Lily's.

* * *

"H-h-h-hey, Lily. Can I call you Lily?" said James, wiping his sweaty palms on the dress robes he had bought for this occasion and trying to look casual.

"Well, seeing as we're going on a date, I suppose you could," said Lily with a small smile and a roll of her eyes.

"Oh, yeah, of course," said James quickly. "I, er, would you follow me?"

James lead her to where he and the Marauders had set up their date, trying to muffle his squeals of joy at having Lily holding his hand.

"Oh my gosh, James! This is amazing! How did you do this?" said Lily in amazement once they arrived.

There was a red checkered picnic blanket laid out on the grass, with a simple wicker basket in the center. Draped on the bushes that surrounded them were fairy lights made of real fairies, who had consented to being used as decoration after being offered a whole jar of honey.

"It was nothing," said James, sitting down and patting the space next to him.

In truth, it had taken the Marauders most of yesterday and half of today to work on the picnic. The fairies, especially, had been difficult to catch. Running around like headless chickens, they had tried to trap the fairies in jars. It hadn't worked.

However, just as they started to help themselves to the sandwiches James had packed into the basket, it started to rain, causing the fairies to scatter, shrieking noisily and leaving them in the dark.

"Oh, no…" said James, sadly draping the picnic blanket over Lily's head and grabbing the basket. The rain was quickly worsening, so that now, James was dripping wet.

Lily gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled him under the picnic blanket, not that it was helping at all.

"It's okay, it's the thought that counts. Besides, our luck can't be so bad that it rains again next time!" said Lily consolingly as they made their way back up the winding path to the school.

Only once James was back in his room did he realize that Lily had said 'next time'.


	8. Potter and Black's Magical Eats

**Season Five, Round Twelve: Potter and Black's Magical Eats**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- This is a Muggle!Remus AU, so he didn't go to Hogwarts and doesn't know magic exists.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Write about two characters in an employee/employer relationship**

 **Optional Prompts: James Potter + Remus Lupin**

 **11\. (object) power socket**

 **13\. (object) blouse**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 909**

 **Beta-ed By: desertredwolf and TartCat207. Thank you!**

* * *

Remus finished up his shopping and pushed his cart up to the checkout counter.

"That'll be twenty dollars," said the young lady behind the counter brightly.

Remus winced (his family had never really had much money), but paid up.

"Thank you..." Remus glanced down at her blouse and found what he was looking for: her name tag. "Melinda."

"Have a nice day!" she called cheerfully as he walked away, pushing his groceries along.

As always, he passed by the bulletin board, where people around town posted advertisements asking for others to do odd jobs. He was hoping someone was hoping for a full-time job, as the company he had worked for previously had moved their facilities to another town, where he couldn't follow.

"POTTER AND BLACK'S MAGICAL EATS

HIRING FOR ANY POSITION

FIND US AT 7, MEADOW PASSAGE

ALL YOU NEED IS A FUN PERSONALITY!"

Remus smiled.

 _Well, it couldn't hurt to try._

* * *

Remus walked up Meadow Passage, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie.

 _Number four, number five, number six—_

There it was. A large sign at the front showed off the name of their restaurant. It was the flashiest building on the street.

Remus entered the building. Oddly, it didn't have any electric lights, only candles. Maybe it was for effect. Confused when he didn't see anyone, he walked up to the front, only for a man around his age to pop up from under a table.

The first thing Remus noticed about him was that he had silvery colored eyes. It was an odd color, but it fit him. The man grinned.

"Table for one?" he asked, shaking his shoulder-length black hair out of his eyes.

"Oh, actually, I was wondering if I could work here?"

"Great! JAMES!" he suddenly called in the direction of the kitchen.

"Merlin,"—Merlin? he thought—"Sirius, could yo—oh, hello there!"

"Hello," said Remus. This new person, James, was a bit taller than the first man, apparently called Sirius. James had impossibly messy black hair, hazel eyes, and was wearing a simple red t-shirt under an apron.

"So," said Sirius, "our friend here—uh, actually, what's your name?"

"Remus Lupin," Remus supplied.

"Yeah, he wants to work here. He seems like a nice bloke; what do you think?"

"I like him. Great, you're hired! Well, if you don't mind washing tables and serving stuff. Sorry, but they're the only positions available." James grinned apologetically.

"Oh, no, I don't mind at all," said Remus hurriedly, accepting the apron handed to him.

"Oh, look! There's our first customer! Hello, what can I get you?" Sirius made his way over to a young woman at the entrance.

"Table for one, please," she said, and Sirius lead her over to a table.

Sirius took her order, and once he had finished, he came back and told James, "She wants a Butterbeer and a Happy-Go-Lucky Sandwich."

"On it!" said James, dashing into the kitchen. A moment later, he came back with a foaming mug and a steaming hot sandwich.

This made Remus suspicious; he knew there was no reason to be, but he suddenly felt like something was off here. And if Remus Lupin loved anything (other than a steaming cup of tea), it was a good mystery. He scanned the restaurant, and found that there weren't any power sockets. This on its own wouldn't be _too_ odd, but if there weren't any in the kitchen...

"Here, could you bring this over?" asked James, passing him the food and drink while Sirius dashed to the front again.

"Hey, do you mind if I come to the kitchen?" asked Remus, following James.

"Oh! Er, one moment." He quickly sprinted into the kitchen. Remus followed behind, hearing James mutter random gibberish and say something about "Muggle-proofing" and "Charms" and "Transfiguring".

"Alright! You can come in!"

Remus warily entered the kitchen, to find a simple stove and oven. There was lots of counter-space, but no fridge, blenders, or really, anything for modern cooking. Glancing around, he found no power sockets here either.

"Uh, James? How do you keep things cold?" asked Remus.

"What?" he said.

"You know, you don't have a fridge. Actually, you don't have any of the normal stuff. Do you even know anything about electricity?" said Remus.

"Er..." James sighed. "Well, it was bound to come up at some point, and if you were going to work here, we would've had to tell you. SIRIUS!"

"What?" demanded Sirius, coming into the kitchen.

"We have to tell him," said James.

"Wha—? All right." Sirius took a deep breath.

"We're magic."

Remus closed his eyes and opened them again. They were staring back at him with perfectly serious expressions.

"You're not joking," Remus realized. Magic was real?

"Yep," said James. Apparently, he had said that out loud. Remus had thought that that only happened in books.

"We have a whole magical community, with a Ministry, and a school called Hogwarts," said Sirius.

Remus let out a snort. "Hogwarts?"

"Hey!" said James. "That's where we graduated from! It's the best school of magic there is."

"Okay…Anyway, so what can you do?"

"This." James pulled out a stick—his wand, most likely—from out of his pocket. He waved it and said clearly, "Wingardium Leviosa."

A paper cup on a nearby counter floated up towards the ceiling.

"Oh my God," said Remus. Then something dawned on him.

"So _that's_ why you called your restaurant 'Potter and Black's Magical Eats'!"

James and Sirius laughed.


	9. The Problems with Having a Nemesis

**Season Five, Round Thirteen: The Problems with Having a Nemesis**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- This isn't meant to be JP and SB bashing, but you have to admit, they were jerks to Snape in their teens.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Chaser One**

 **Position Prompt: Knight: Write about a normally timid character going into battle.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **8\. (colour) steel grey**

 **9\. (dialogue) "If I had a Knut for every time I heard that—" / "—You'd still be poor."**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 983**

 **Beta-ed By: desertredwolf. Thank you!**

* * *

"You filthy—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, you greasy git!"

Severus Snape, James Potter, and Sirius Black were standing in the middle of an empty hall somewhere near the Charms classroom. They were staring each other down, watching each other's every move.

"If I had a Knut for every time I heard that—"

"—You'd still be poor."

Snape flushed angrily.

"You think you're such knights in shining armor, defending the honors of all of those little Mudbloods and blood traitors — which you usually end up pranking. Oh, did I say pranking? I meant to say bullying, because that's certainly what it feels like from the receiving end."

"I'm glad the firsties have already scarpered, because I wouldn't want them to see what I'm going to do now," James growled, while Sirius' eyes flashed a furious steel gray.

They all raised their wands, seeing red, but right at that moment, McGonagall just happened to pass the corridor they were in.

"Dueling in the halls?" she said, glasses flashing apoplectically. "No matter how many times I've told you to cease this behavior, you three just never learn! I will take one hundred points from each of you — yes, one hundred! _Each_ _._ From my own house! The three of you will be receiving detention for two months, and I will most certainly be speaking to your parents!"

Snape, James, and Sirius gulped.

* * *

"Again?" groaned Remus, finally looking up from his book ( _Hogwarts, a History_ ).

The Marauders lounged on Remus' bed, Remus and Peter sitting up against the headboard, while James and Sirius stretched themselves on the mattress, saying that they needed to be as comfortable as possible after all of the work they had done.

James and Sirius had just come back to the dorm from scrubbing all of the trophies in the trophy room. By hand, and while they could easily be tormented by the sun shining merrily, as they had ranted a few minutes before. Peter had winced sympathetically.

"Yes, again!" said James and Sirius simultaneously.

"What did you do this time to deserve two months' detention, two hundred points taken, _and_ your parents being summoned?" asked Remus with a sigh.

"Well, Snivellus was walking down the hall—" said James, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"—behind some firsties—" said Sirius, jumping up and pacing back and forth.

"—and his hand went toward his wand—"

"—so we sent a tripping hex at him!"

Remus and Peter watched, completely nonplussed at the way James and Sirius finished each other's sentences and seamlessly told the story. They had gotten used to it, after living with the boys for five years. In fact, they participated often enough.

"Because we couldn't let him attack them!" exclaimed James.

"So then he began to insult us—"

"—and we had to defend our honor!" said Sirius heatedly.

Remus sighed again, while Peter sniggered.

"This is the— You know what, I don't even know how many times this has happened."

And that's Remus realized: What they were doing wasn't right. Of course, he had already known this, but he had valued the Marauders' friendship too much to tell them. But, as he now knew, a real friend would stop their friends from doing things like this.

"James, Sirius? Could you _stop_ provoking Snape?"

They spluttered. "But it's Snivellus, Moony! _Snivellus!_ He's up to his ears in the Dark Arts!" said Sirius.

"I understand that, but knowing about the Dark Arts isn't enough to deserve being harassed. In fact, no one deserves it. _Ever._ I would have thought that you, especially, Sirius, would know that it isn't fun," said Remus.

Sirius winced. Remus knew that was a low blow, but he needed to get his point across.

"It isn't harassment! He's just getting what he deserves, calling Evans a...you know, the 'M' word!" said James harshly.

"I get it. He isn't innocent. Maybe he's even more at fault. But still, you need to be the better man!"

There was a pause. James and Sirius stared at Remus, mouths opening and closing like fish. Peter just watched in interest.

"Who do you think started this?" asked Remus suddenly.

"Didn't we just say that Snivellus tried to hex some firsties? Honestly, and people call you the smart one —"

"No, not that time!" snapped Remus impatiently. "This started long before today."

At his friends' blank stares, Remus sighed for the third time that day. He liked to call himself an expert at this action, after dealing with his friends for more than nine months out of every year.

"Don't you two remember when we met on the train, back in first year?"

"Right, Snivellus, of course! Remember, 'If you'd rather be brawny than brainy—'" started James.

"No, it was you. 'Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?' He just answered back when you insulted the house he wanted," interrupted Remus.

"I—that—but—!"

"What do you do if someone annoys you? You hex them. What do you do if someone just _happens_ to be sorted into Slytherin? You—hex—them!" Remus was breathing heavily now.

Finally, after all of Remus' arguments, James and Sirius were looking thoroughly abashed. Even Peter, who had had nothing to do with James and Sirius' treatment of Snape, looked ashamed.

And as Remus calmed down, he realized what he had said. Of course, he couldn't take it back. He found that he didn't want to, but he was now worried what James and Sirius would do. Did they still wanted to be his friend? He would still have Peter, but he would still miss their company.

"I suppose you're right, Moony, just like always," said Sirius quietly, with a bitter laugh.

"When you put it like that, we really _do_ sound like arrogant toe-rags," said James.

"Mind you, the habit will be hard to break—"

"—but we're willing to try."

Remus smiled.

"That's all I ask."


	10. The One Called Freak

**Training Camp One, Round One: The One Called Freak**

 **A/N: For the first ever QLFC Training Camp! And actually, I didn't get to finish it on time ( :( ), but I decided to put this up anyway. Hope you like it! EDIT: DolbyDigital kindly accepted my story — with a point penalty — so I am very grateful. If you're reading this, thanks!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Portsmouth Plovers**

 **Position: Chaser Two**

 **Position Prompt: The Ugly Duckling**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **2\. (word) sore**

 **4\. (word) bleeding**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 940**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Harry Potter. He was loved and cherished by his family. They showered him in praise and gifts, and _love_. His parents and uncles were constantly tending to his every need, and he couldn't be happier.

Until the Dark Lord Voldemort came to the family's house and killed the mother and father, leaving Harry to stay with his despicable relatives.

There, he was treated as an outcast and a slave, made to do chores that were quite difficult — and dangerous — for his young age, leaving him very sore, and occasionally nursing bleeding wounds. His slightly older cousin, Dudley, bullied him constantly, at home, at school, at the playground — when Harry was allowed to go — thus making a mark on Harry that his guardians were unable to match. Although they did come close, with them calling Harry a freak at every turn, and his Uncle Vernon slapping him when he was very bad, and his Aunt hissing at him and making sure to keep him in his cupboard at all times. He didn't understand why he was hated so much, but little did he know, there was a — though not very good — reason.

He was a wizard.

Yes, a wizard — the kind with magic wands and flying broomsticks, owls as pets and books filled with spells, and a magic school in a castle.

He found out what he was eventually, of course, and his hatred grew for the Dursleys — he was surprised that it was possible — for keeping this from him. Then, after purchasing his school supplies at a WIzarding street called Diagon Alley with a giant man called Hagrid, he was shipped off to his new school — called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry — with a wonderful feeling of excitement growing in his chest.

But what he discovered there was something that he had never known before — well, other than magic, of course. It was the feeling of knowing that you belonged. And it intensified further when he made friends, named Ron and Hermione, and also learned the feeling of what it was like to have people to lean back on, to be able to talk to without being judged, to know that you would be able to do anything with them at your side.

And then he was even allowed to stay at his friend's house, where he learned what it felt like to be part of a family and loved like one, learned that it was not standard procedure to slap your nephew if he finished his chores five minutes late.

And he thrived, and even the news that another mass-murderer was out to get him didn't dampen his spirits. His classes went smoothly — even more smoothly than before, even, thanks to an actually competent Defense teacher — and although there were a few bumps — such as the Great Firebolt Fray and the Great Pet Problem — he was happy.

Then at the end of the year, something happened. Now, that introduction made the something sound like a bad thing, but really, it was one of the best — no, _the_ best — thing that had ever happened to him.

That day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had visited Hagrid in his hut, and after discovering Scabbers was really alive, they got shooed out due to Buckbeak's executioners coming. They made their way back up to the castle, managing to avoid the Minister and his executioner, but Scabbers squeaked and wriggled and finally managed to escape his owner's grasp, and Ron chased him all the way to the Whomping Willow, only to be knocked over by a great black shaggy dog and dragged through a tunnel under the Willow's roots.

Harry and Hermione followed him through the secret passage, to find Sirius Black grinning a manic grin. He was immediately attacked by Harry, punched and kicked, for Harry had discovered how he had betrayed his family, but then Professor Remus Lupin came in and Disarmed them all, and explained how Black was completely innocent by showing them the Marauder's Map, which showed Scabbers as Peter Pettigrew. And then, Pettigrew had been forced into his normal, human form. Lupin and Black had wanted to kill him — the real traitor — on the spot, but Harry stopped them, and told them that Pettigrew could go to Azkaban, just not to kill him, for his father wouldn't want them to become murderers just for the rat.

Together, they took Pettigrew up to the castle, bound in ropes and chained to Ron — who had taken it as a personal insult that Scabbers was Pettigrew — on one side, and Professor Lupin on the other. They then had to switch Pettigrew to Harry, as Lupin transformed into a werewolf at moonrise, although luckily he had taken a potion beforehand — called the Wolfsbane Potion — to help him keep his mind on full moons.

They brought Pettigrew, who was still bound in ropes, up into the castle, and up to Dumbledore, who contacted the Ministry of Magic to take care of the criminal.

Within the next week, Pettigrew was locked up in Azkaban, and Sirius was free, cleared of all charges, and given a large compensation (3000 Galleons for every year Black spent locked up for crimes not his own).

And, when he went to live with Sirius and Remus, Harry learned what it was like to have a family to call his own, and relished in the feeling that he would never, ever, feel like an outcast again.


	11. Spider!

**Training Camp One, Round Two: Spider!**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- I'm actually not sure whether the books outright say that Ron has arachnophobia, so I'm going to pretend that Harry and Hermione think that Ron just has a regular old fear of them.**

 **-** **I mention a book, "Arachnophobia, the Fear of Spiders: Symptoms of Arachnophobia and Treatment for Arachnophobia to Aid in Your Phobia of Spiders", which was published in 2012, and this story takes place about a year after the second war.**

 **\- I've never read the book — I just looked up books on arachnophobia — so I'm just making up the contents that Ron and Hermione talk about. As far as I know, the book never said anything about what they say it does.**

 **Team: Portsmouth Plovers**

 **Position: Chaser 2**

 **Position Prompt: Write about your OTP dealing with a mental illness.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **2\. (word) accept**

 **8\. (word) inkling**

 **9\. (phrase) crystal clear**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1166**

* * *

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione jumped. Rushing upstairs, memories of the recent war flashing in her mind, she yelled back, "What is it?"

When she got to their bedroom, she paused, and re-assessed the situation. Ron, her husband, was pressed up against the wall to her right, looking terrified, and in the corner of the wall opposite, a spider was resting in its web.

"Kill it!" he said, backing further away and pressing his back into the wall.

"Oh, honestly, Ron, are you a wizard or not?" Rolling her eyes, she pointed her wand at the spider, and with a flick of her wrist, Hermione opened the window of the apartment they shared, set the spider on the windowsill, and shut the window. The spider crawled away, and Hermione turned to Ron, who was now sitting down on their bed and staring at the corner where the spider's web remained.

"Are you okay? I know you're scared of spiders, but you've got to accept that they can't hurt you. And anyways, you're a full-grown wizard; you can easily just get rid of them," Hermione said, sitting next to Ron and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"I know," said Ron, "But when I see them I just freak out and my mouth goes all dry and —"

As Ron listed off his symptoms, something niggled at the back of her mind. She had an inkling that she had read something about this before. And then it hit her. After all this time, she — how had she been so thick? — had thought that Ron just had a fear of spiders. But it had been so obvious! Ron had arachnophobia!

Ron had tapered off into silence. "What?" he asked.

"If I'm correct —"

"Which you always are."

"— then you have arachnophobia."

"I have what?" said Ron, staring at her with a perplexed expression. "I can't tell whether that's what you said or if you sneezed," he added, making a poker-face that would've fooled anyone but her or Harry.

"You know perfectly well that I didn't sneeze!" snapped Hermione. "And arachnophobia is a fear of spiders."

Ron snorted. "No sh—"

"Ronald! Language!"

"It's just us here," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, but still," said Hermione, sniffing haughtily. "Anyways, a phobia — which is what you have — is more than just a regular fear. I'll have to go to the library to learn more, but you basically have a very extreme fear of spiders."

* * *

"Here," said Hermione, dropping her new book — "Arachnophobia, the Fear of Spiders: Symptoms of Arachnophobia and Treatment for Arachnophobia to Aid in Your Phobia of Spiders" — on the table, where Ron was having breakfast.

"Er, why are you giving this to me?" asked Ron, putting down his fork with a sausage speared on it and looking down at the book.

"So you can read it?" said Hermione. She patted the book. "It's pretty good, though not as in-depth as I'd like — it'll work for now, and besides, you don't need it to be too deep."

"Er — alright," said Ron, staring at the book.

Hermione left him to his reading.

* * *

"So… what am I supposed to do with this information?" said Ron a week later, after finally finishing the book.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Hermione. "After all you've read?"

"I think your definition of crystal clear is different than mine," said Ron.

"We're going to try graduated exposure therapy," said Hermione finally, after holding Ron's gaze for a moment.

"We're going to _what?_ " Ron squawked. "Nononononono," he said, backing away, as if the spiders were already in her hand. "I think I'm going to visit Harry and Ginny."

And before Hermione could say a word, he had tossed Floo powder into the fireplace, shouted "the Potter House!" and left in a whirl of flames.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" Hermione screeched, even though she knew Ron couldn't hear her. She followed him through the fireplace, and landed in her best friends' living room, where a very bewildered-looking Harry was shielding a terrified-looking Ron.

"What is going on?" asked Harry, looking between his best friends. "Can someone explain to me why you two just randomly pop into my house, with Ron looking like you had just shoved a spider in his face?"

"Um…"

"That's _exactly_ what she's trying to do!" Ron shrieked, ducking once more behind Harry.

"What is he talking about?" asked Harry.

"Well, I discovered that Ron has arachnophobia, so I'm trying a plan to desensitize him by exposing him to what he's afraid of," Hermione explained.

There was a pause as Harry took this in.

"So you _are_ going to shove a bunch of spiders into his face?" said Harry finally.

"Not right away!" Hermione protested, but she went ignored by Harry.

"Maybe you should wait until Ginny gets back from Quidditch practice," said Harry thoughtfully. "I mean, she _might_ laugh a bit, but she's still his brother —"

"I'm right here, you know!" said Ron from behind Harry.

"— and he could use all of the support he could get."

"Erm, what's going on?" asked Ginny, appearing in the middle of the living room. Hermione wondered what was going through her mind right now; her husband and good friend were standing in the middle of the room, casually chatting, while her brother was cowering behind her husband looking scared out of his wits.

"Speak of the devil," said Harry, smiling at his wife. "Hi, Ginny. Er, basically, Ron is arachnophobic — his fear of spiders isn't just a regular one; it's more intense — and we're going to make him less scared by, well, giving him a ton of them."

"Ha, ha, very funny," said Ginny, looking around at them all, scepticism in her eyes. "That's _definitely_ going to help Ron get over his fear, dropping a bunch in his hand."

"It's going to be _controlled_ , of course," said Hermione. "We're going to start showing him pictures of spiders, and then, we can put a spider on the other side of the room, and finally, we can put a real spider in his hand. And of course we're going to have him use calming techniques —"

"Okay," interrupted Ginny, smirking wickedly. "Well, there's no time better than the present!" And she promptly Conjured up a tiny spider and Banished it into Ron's palm.

Ron began to hyperventilate, and attempted to shake it off onto Harry's shoulder, but the spider didn't budge.

"Ginny!" Hermione shrieked. "You can't just shove a spider in his hand without going through all the steps!"

"Okay, okay!" said Ginny. She went over to Ron and attempted to Vanish the spider, but Ron was shaking his hand too much for her to aim. "Stop moving, Ron!"

Finally, Ron began to slow down enough for Ginny to hit the spider instead of Vanishing his hand. His eyes were still wide open, however, when he sank onto the Potters' couch.

"I think maybe we can start his therapy later…"


	12. The Speech of the Unknown

**Training Camp One, Round Three: The Speech of the Unknown**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. This story is based off a legend that's called, as far as I know, "The Speech of the Unknown".**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- If you want to see the website I found this on, here's the link (remove the spaces): goo .gl/rY fWpE**

 **\- Sorry, can't speak like people in the 1700s. I tried...**

 **Team: Portsmouth Plovers**

 **Position: Chaser 2**

 **Position Prompt: Write a story set during the establishment of a democracy.**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **6\. (dialogue) "Choose it or lose it."**  
 **14\. (dialogue) "Do what you want."**  
 **15\. (word) decision**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 938**

* * *

Cuthbert pulled the Time-Turner off of the wooden shelf and held the tiny hourglass in his hands. Did he really want to do this? After all, Time-Turners had never been tested; it was only rumors that had brought him here in the first place. But still… he couldn't pass up a chance to see history in the making. Could he? But then, before he could come to a final decision, he heard a loud crash in the next room, followed by a witch swearing colorfully. Cuthbert panicked — even though he was Disillusioned, and that there was absolutely no reason for anyone to check into the Time Room — and dropped the Time-Turner. It smashed on the floor, and, free from the confines of the glass which was now shattered on the floor, the sand inside began to swirl around him.

"Merlin's pants," he muttered, his hand flying to the wand hidden underneath his dark robes. He had no idea where he would end up, and simply prayed it was somewhere he knew.

He rematerialized inside a decent-sized room. It was filled with small, square tables with a slightly dreary-looking green cloth draped over it. Sitting at each table were four or so men, all with white hair and black suits, like you'd expect to see around the 16- or 1700s. The men at the tables were listening to a man at the front of the room, who was making some sort of speech while waving his hands enthusiastically. Cuthbert did a quick headcount, and found that there were 56 people in the room in total.

Wait… Did that mean it had worked? Had he really gone back to the American Revolution? Was he really watching history being made, right now, as they discussed the signing of the Declaration of Independence?

"But — if we sign, and we lose the war, we shall be convicted of high treason! We shall hang at the gibbet, and they will scatter our rotted remains!" said one pale man in the corner, and a few men nodded their heads in agreement.

Cuthbert took off the Disillusion Charm, coming to a realization. The mystery man was _him!_

All of the heads swiveled around to him. Low mutterings filled the room, wondering how someone could have made it in.

Cuthbert snorted at the one who had spoken. Suddenly he found it within him to give a speech of freedom to the some of the ones most famous for spreading that message. "High treason! They can turn every rock into an axe, every tree into a gibbet, and yet the words on that parchment will never die!"

The soon-to-be signers glanced at one another.

"These words will go forth to the world when our bones are dust. To the slave in the mines they will speak of hope, to the mechanic in his workshop, freedom. To the cowardly kings, these words will speak, but not in tones of flattery. No, they will speak like the flaming syllables on Belshazzar's wall: The days of your pride and glory are numbered! The days of judgment and revolution draw near!"

Cuthbert spoke with a flame he had never known before. He _had_ to get those men to sign. The signers were looking more excited than they had ever been.

"Sign, even if in the next moment, the rope of the gibbet is around your neck! Sign, even if in the next moment, this hall rings with the echo of the falling axe! Sign! By all your hopes in life or death, as husbands, as fathers, as men — sign your names to the Parchment or be accursed forever!"

The men cheered rowdily, banging their fists on the tables.

"Sign! Do it not only for yourselves, but for all ages. For that Parchment will become the textbook of freedom: the Bible of the Rights of Man forever! Sign, for that Declaration of Independence will go forth to American hearts forever, and speak to those hearts like the voice of God!"

Almost everyone was bursting to sign, but there were one or two who still looked on the fence. Cuthbert paused, and gave a final statement. It wasn't as bold, as loud, but he hoped it would do it. "Do what you want. You can leave now, but this is your only chance at freedom. Choose it or lose it."

The signers burst into a round of applause. They rushed to pick up the quill to sign their names; one man barely had time to write his name before the quill was taken by another.

Cuthbert grinned to himself, and with a tap of his wand, he Disillusioned himself once again. Going unnoticed through the commotion, Cuthbert slipped out the door and into the night air.

* * *

After a few weeks in America, Cuthbert eventually made his way to England, hoping to find a way back to his time. After quite a few decades of searching for a way to return (the Time-Turner incident had made his life longer than even the average wizard's dying age of one-hundred and fifteen), he finally accepted that this was his home now. Cuthbert spent the rest of his life (and death) teaching History of Magic, one of his favorite subjects, at Hogwarts. (He realized that the Cuthbert Binns that he was named after was actually himself.)

* * *

It was 1992, and Ms. — Granger, the girl had said — had asked about the Chamber of Secrets during class.

"My subject is History of Magic. I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends," said Cuthbert. He had had enough of them for a lifetime.


	13. The Forest Foray

**Season Six, Round One: The Forest Foray**

 **A/N: Hey! I'm alive! This is for the new season of the Quidditch League. Enjoy your first fic from me in months (I am super sorry).**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write a magical creature you've never written before.**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1309**

 **Beta'd By: TartCat207 and desertredwolf. Thank you!**

* * *

"This is stupid," Remus hissed furiously, scanning the area. "This is the stupidest idea you've ever had, and I've lived with you lot for four years."

"Lighten up, Remy," Sirius said brightly. "This isn't the most dangerous thing we've done."

"One, don't call me Remy, and two, this is, undoubtedly, _the_ most dangerous thing we've ever done."

The Marauders were huddled under the Invisibility Cloak, sneaking their way into the Forbidden Forest under the cover of the night. Apparently, it was to 'get to know the rest of the absolutely _lovely_ inhabitants of Hogwarts better' because 'it really was quite a shame that they hadn't tried to become more friendly with the wonderful Forest dwellers sooner.' But Remus was sure that his best friends simply had a death wish.

"Besides," said Peter in a long-suffering tone, "if I have to pay for James' and Sirius' malfunctioning brains, then you should too. It's only fair."

"Our brains aren't malfunctioning," said Sirius. Peter found himself having a sudden, violent coughing fit.

"Come on, Remy," said James, over the loud, pointed coughs. He clapped Remus on the back. "We'll clear right out of the forest as soon as we come across anything unsavory, alright?"

"Don't call me Remy," mumbled Remus, but against his will, he was feeling growing excitement. He wasn't a Marauder for nothing, after all.

Sirius caught his expression, however. He tapped Remus on the nose with his lit wand. "Aw, there you go, Remy! That's the spirit!"

"We're all idiots," Remus lamented. "We're all bloody idiots."

"But you love us, right?" said Sirius, as the Marauders maneuvered around a twitching Whomping Willow and into the forest. James pulled the Invisibility Cloak off and stuffed it into his pocket; they didn't want to lose the Cloak in the thick brambles of the forest.

"As if," said Remus, rolling his eyes, but suppressing a grin. "It was really quite terrible luck that we all ended up in the same dormitory."

James opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Peter let out a shriek.

"What the—?" started James, until he noticed fierce, glowing eyes peering from the bushes around the clearing they were in.

"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant," said Sirius, backing away from the creepy eyes.

The owners of the eyes advanced, revealing their long snouts, dark, furry bodies, and full, bushy tails.

Wolves.

Remus pointed his wand at the creatures, but they didn't seem to be aggressive. Instead, they lumbered up to Remus and rubbed themselves against his legs.

That was when he realized what was going on.

"I think these are the werewolves that Professor Dumbledore told me about!" whispered Remus, as the wolves butted their heads against his calves. "They're from two werewolves that reproduced during the full moon, and now they're being studied here. They're exactly like normal wolves, except they have an abnormally high intelligence. And since I'm a werewolf too, they won't hurt me or what they think of as my pack."

Professor Dumbledore had warned Remus that if he wandered near the outskirts of the forest, these wolves might attempt to approach him because they were attracted to the magic of the wolf in him.

"That's possible?" asked Peter, as the wolves flopped themselves down next to Remus. "What are the chances of that happening?"

"Very slim, but the results are" — Remus looked down — "er, drooling all over my foot."

Sirius and James were trying very hard not to burst out laughing at Remus' predicament. He was attempting to nudge the wolves off of his feet without disturbing them, but this was proving to be very difficult, as the heavy canines seemed to be unwilling to move.

"Come _on_ , get up!" said Remus irritatedly, wiggling his foot. To his surprise, they stood up and looked at him with their tongues lolling out of their mouths.

"I think they listen to you because you're a werewolf," said Sirius, looking at the wolves in interest.

"Maybe." Professor Dumbledore hadn't told him about that, but it could be that no one had discovered it yet. "Uh, sit." As soon as Remus spoke the words, the wolves sat down obligingly.

"Whoa, cool!" said James. A mischievous smile spread over his face. "Imagine the kind of pranks we could pull off with a bunch of wolves on our side!"

"Let's not," said Peter hurriedly, looking at the twin troublemaking expressions on Sirius' and James' faces. "Chances are we'd be expelled for bringing werewolves into the castle and endangering our fellow students."

"Fine," said Sirius, pouting. Then he brightened. "What if these two could be our tour guides/bodyguards? Just for now. Then we can explore without getting worried about a giant spider or some other insane monster attacking us."

"Okay," said Remus, "but only if these two agree."

"Sure," said James and Peter.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Not you, pea-brains," he said. "I meant the wolves."

"Right," said James. "I knew that. Definitely."

Remus ignored him. "What do you think?" he asked the wolves.

Nodding in an eerily human-like way, the two wolves bounded off.

"Hey, wait!" yelled Sirius, and the rest of the Marauders ran after the wolves.

The wolves paused in front of a thorny bush. Putting their paws to their mouths — _When had they learned human non-verbal communication?_ — they looked over at the clearing ahead.

The Marauders crouched below the bushes and followed the wolves' gazes. What they saw shocked them into an awed silence.

A brilliant white unicorn and its shimmering golden foal were grazing on the grass in the clearing. Occasionally, the mother would look up and scan the surrounding area, but she didn't notice them.

Just then, Remus noticed one of the wolves slinking around the edge of the clearing, a hungry look in its eyes. A glance at the wolf still next to them confirmed his thoughts.

"Stop it!" he hissed. The wolves came back, but turned pleading eyes on him.

"I didn't do anything!" said Sirius, bewildered.

"Not you! The wolves!" said Remus. "They were about to ambush the unicorns!"

"Maybe we'd best leave the wolves here," said James. He glanced uneasily at the wolves. "Who knows what else they might try to eat."

With that, they left the wolves and wandered deeper into the forest.

"Um, guys?" said Peter, looking around nervously. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't be such a chicken, Peter," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "You've lasted this long."

"No, really," he said. He pointed. "I'm seeing some spider webs that look very much like they were made by the biggest spider in existence."

The Marauders followed his gaze, and gasped in horror. A humongous spider web was draped across the trees. And to top it all off, spiders the size of small cars were lowering themselves down to the ground, clicking their pincers menacingly.

They screamed.

Weaving their way through the underbrush, the Marauders ran as fast as they could, firing off countless ' _Arania Exumai'_ s behind them.

"I knew we shouldn't have ditched our bodyguards!" yelled Peter, almost tripping over a root.

It was with immense relief that the Marauders stumbled out of the forest. Still in shock, they wrapped themselves in the Invisibility Cloak and made their way back into the safety of Gryffindor Tower.

Once they arrived in their dormitory, they all collapsed on the ground.

"I — told — you — so," gasped Remus, clutching his side.

"This is not the time for an 'I told you so,'" said James, panting.

"You're helping me with my essays for a week, at _least_ ," said Peter, his voice muffled, as he was curled up into a ball. "I may be permanently traumatized."

"That was great, wasn't it?" said Sirius brightly, looking not at all winded. "We should do that again sometime!"

The rest of the Marauders glared at him.

* * *

 **About the werewolves in the forest: I didn't make this up. If you go to the end of the Pottermore article on werewolves, you'll find some info about them.**

 **And for those of you that follow 'The Boggart Man', I haven't abandoned it! I'm just kinda struggling with writing chapter nine, and figuring out the plot from there. And my attention's been taken from it because I've come up with a new story idea that's flowing a lot easier. I swear the next chapter 'The Boggart Man' will be out soon!**


	14. All We See is Sky (For Forever)

**Season Six, Round Two: All We See is Sky (For Forever)**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Sorry for lack of fics; in the process of writing a new multi-chap. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- Mild slash! Pre-Wolfstar is in this fic, so if that isn't your thing, check out some of my other stories where the Marauders are fully platonic.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Velociraptor: Write about a character joining a group**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 2434 (Yay!)**

 **Beta'd By: desertredwolf and TartCat207. Thank you!**

* * *

"See ya, Snivellus!" yelled James, laughing at Lily's and Snivellus' retreating backs.

"Ugh, they're the worst," said Sirius, falling back into his seat. "Them alone makes me not want to get into Slytherin."

"I know, right?" said James. He snickered. "I'd _die_ if I was in the same house as Evans and Snivellus."

"Is the Trolley Witch coming by soon?" asked Sirius suddenly. "I'm hungry."

James peered out of the compartment. The excitement having subsided, he realized he, too, was starving.

Instead of the Trolley Witch, a boy about his age stood in the middle of the corridor. He looked around, seeming lost.

"Hey!" James called out to him. The boy's eyes landed on him.

"What?" the boy said. He was tall and lanky, but he was hunched in on himself, like he expected to be attacked any moment. His clothes were shabby, and he carried a battered trunk, both likely second-hand.

The most remarkable thing about him, however, were the multitude of scars littering his body. Some looked new; others seemed like the boy had had them for years.

"You want to join us?" James said, trying not to stare at the slightly raised marks. He could tell he was failing; the other boy looked distinctly uncomfortable. "There's only two of us in our compartment. We could use some company."

The boy looked relieved. "Sure."

James helped the boy carry his trunk into the compartment and stow it in the overhead storage. Then the boy held out his hand.

"Remus Lupin," he said. He seemed slightly nervous, which was odd. Maybe he was shy. "I'm going into my First Year."

James shook it, grinning broadly. "I'm James Potter, and him over there is my friend, Sirius Black. We're First Years, too."

"Nice to meet you," said Remus. He paused. "Uh, can I sit down?"

"Of course!" said James, eager to make a new friend. The two of them sat across from Sirius, who was staring out the window determinedly.

"Er," said James, fumbling for a conversation starter. The awkward silence seemed to stretch on for forever. Finally, he settled on, "Which Hogwarts House do you want to be in?"

Hopefully, the conversation wouldn't end in disaster, as it had the last time Hogwarts Houses had been the topic of discussion.

Thankfully, Remus' reply was, "I like the sound of Gryffindor the most of the four houses, although Ravenclaw is probably where I'll end up. I read a lot of books."

"Have you read _Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_?" asked James, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a favorite comic of his, and truthfully, the only book other than Quidditch guides he had ever read.

"Oh, of course!" said Remus eagerly. "Have you seen the latest issue?"

"I loved that one!" James gushed. "My favorite part was when Martin ran around Paris pretending to be a chicken." He turned to Sirius. "Have you ever read it?"

* * *

"No," Sirius muttered bitterly. He didn't turn around.

Of course, _Remus_ had read it. _Remus_ had everything in common with James. _Remus'_ scars were probably from a cool battle, not because his parents didn't care.

 _Remus_ was perfect, unlike Sirius' messed up self.

James frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he snapped. He opened his mouth, but closed it again and continued staring at the window.

Sirius could see Remus' reflection in the glass. His honey blond hair looked soft. _I wonder what it feels like_ , Sirius thought. Then, _Wait. I did not just think that. I don't think that's normal._

He tried to look at the passing mountains and lakes instead. They were beautiful, nothing like the old and dreary part of London where he had spent all of his life.

"If you're sure," said James doubtfully. He turned back to Remus and continued the discussion about that insane Muggle.

Brilliant. It was just a matter of time until Remus replaced Sirius as James' best friend, and where would that leave him? All he would have were those snotty pure-blood supremacists in Slytherin, where he would inevitably end up. He knew he couldn't do anything about his fate; the best he could do was make James' decision to leave easier for him.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" said a voice. The Trolley Witch had finally arrived.

"Pumpkin Pasties for me," said James. He looked at the others. "What do you want? My treat."

"I couldn't," said Remus. The corner of his lip quirked upward, but his pretty green-brown eyes seemed sad. "I have a sandwich in my trunk."

"No!" James said, looking scandalized. "First Years _have_ to eat something from the Trolley Witch. It's _tradition!_ "

"But—"

"No buts. Friends buy candy for friends, right?" said James.

"I—" Remus seemed thrown off by that comment. "Friends?"

"Of course," said James. He smiled. "Friends sit together and talk about things like _Martin Miggs_ , don't they?"

So that meant Sirius wasn't their friend because he had never read that stupid comic book. He scowled.

Remus opened his mouth to say something, but then the Trolley Witch cleared her throat loudly.

"Your orders?"

The Trolley Witch's pleasant demeanor had vanished; it seemed that patience was not her strong suit. If looks could kill, the boys would be dead ten times over.

"Right," said James sheepishly. He turned to them. "So?"

"Um, Chocolate Frogs would be nice," said Remus hesitantly.

"I don't want anything," said Sirius. He tried to convince himself that he had been able to eat before leaving 12 "Grim Old" Place. He was failing.

"Are you sure?" said James. He frowned. "Come on, you don't want _anything_? Wasn't it just a half an hour ago when you were complaining about how you were hungry?"

"Oh, alright, if you insist," Sirius conceded. He couldn't deny that his stomach was growling. "I want...Cauldron Cakes."

His parents had never seen the point in giving anything even remotely sweet to their children, except for the few times when perfect son _Regulus_ had earned it.

"Ten of what they said, plus the same amount of Pumpkin Pasties and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," said James, pulling out a handful of Galleons. Remus was gaping at the amount of money James was casually handling _._

 _Probably dirt-poor,_ mused Sirius. Finally, evidence that Remus' life _wasn't_ perfect.

"Took you long enough," the Trolley Witch muttered under her breath as she snatched the money and shoved their food at them. She left their compartment the moment she had counted out and given back the change.

"Mmm," said James, biting off a half of the Pasty. "'ese err e'en e'er 'en 'en oo ge' 'em a' 'ia'on A'ey i' 'ose 'ig 'a'a'es."

"What is that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, picking up one of his Cauldron Cakes. "That was basically sound vomit."

But before Sirius could even so much as open it, Remus smiled at him and held out a Chocolate Frog.

* * *

"Here, want to share?"

Remus felt bad for Sirius. Remus had just swooped in and stole his — probably only — friend, and he hadn't even made an effort until now to talk to him. Remus knew that if he was in Sirius' shoes, he'd feel resentful toward the one trying to take his friend for himself.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. They were grey, an odd color, but they really suited him. "Really?"

"Of course," said Remus. He blushed. "I've never had anything to share, or anyone to share it with."

With all of the "cures" his parents had tried and paid for, they didn't have money to spend on anything frivolous, like toys or candy. The only luxury Remus was allowed were second-hand books.

Sirius' expression softened. "Sure. You can have one of my cakes, too."

They smiled hesitantly at each other.

James beamed, interrupting their moment. "Finally! That was _exhausting!_ "

"What was exhausting?" asked Sirius. "You didn't even _do_ anything."

"Just sitting here between your frigidness was tiring," said James. He threw his hands into the air. "Why is it so hard for people to just be nice to each other?"

"One," said Remus, counting on his fingers and holding them up, "frigidness isn't a word. I think you mean 'frigidity'. And two, we weren't being _mean_ to each other."

"You just weren't talking to each other," said James. "In a way, that's worse."

"Oh, shut up," said Sirius. He took the Chocolate Frog Remus had offered him, ripped it open, and pulled out the card. "I got Gryffindor!"

"Must be a sign," said James, grinning. "The image of the Great Godric Gryffindor is on your side."

"Hopefully," said Sirius. Something seemed to occur to him. "What if I really do get sorted into Slytherin?"

"Then we'll go to Headmaster Dumbledore and tell him that the Sorting Hat made a mistake," declared James.

"And if that doesn't work," added Remus, "then we'll be your friend anyway."

"Thanks," Sirius said. Then he grinned. "What are we doing, being all sappy like a bunch of girls. Let's try the Bertie Bott's Beans!"

"You go first," said James. He held a box out to Sirius.

"What, are you scared?" said Sirius, smirking.

"Of course not!" exclaimed James. He immediately tore open the box of Every Flavor Beans, took a bean out, and popped it in his mouth.

Suddenly, James gagged. "Eurgh. That was disgusting!"

"What was it?" asked Remus.

"Vomit," said James. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and spit bean mush out. "Blegh, I think I swallowed some."

"How do you even know what vomit tastes like?" said Remus, grinning.

"Yeah," said Sirius, catching on. "Do you eat your own puke?"

"No!" said James. In Remus' opinion, he sounded much too defensive. "Don't tell me none of you have been sick before."

Yes, he had. Commonly, after transformations, he would be very nauseous, his stomach unsettled from being changed from a human's to a wolf's and then back to a human's.

"Yes," said Sirius, rolling his eyes, "but we don't _swallow_ it."

"But—"

"Do you want to go next, or should I?" said Sirius loudly. He winked at Remus, causing him to feel funny.

"I-I'll go," said Remus. He smirked. What they didn't know was that he had found a masterlist of every different flavor of Bertie Bott's Beans in an old book, and that he had memorized every single one.

Remus peered into the bag and pulled out one he knew to be chocolate. He made a big show of being reluctant to eat it, until finally, he scrunched up his eyes and stuck it in his mouth.

He let his muscles relax. "Chocolate."

"Lucky you," said James. Sirius snorted.

"My turn," he said. He blindly reached into the bag, biting his lip. _That's kinda cute—wait, what?_ Remus shook his head and focused back in.

Sirius sighed in relief. "Uh...gummy bears, I think."

"Why do you guys get all of the good flavors?" James complained.

"Bad luck," said Remus, laughing inwardly.

"Let's see how you fare this time," said Sirius. He held out the box of beans with a challenging smirk on his face.

James reached into the box, pulled out a bean, and held it up to the light. Remus didn't deem it necessary to warn James that it had a fifty-fifty chance of being earwax; James wouldn't like those odds.

"Toffee, I think," said James. He squared his shoulders and stuck it in his mouth.

"Argh! Are you kidding me?" James spit the bean into his handkerchief. "Someone rigged these, I swear."

Suddenly, someone crashed into the room. The newcomer pressed his back against the door, panting.

"Where'd that little ratty kid go?" a voice shouted, loud and angry. Footsteps thundered past their compartment. Once they had subsided, the boy sagged in relief.

"What was that?" said James. They all stared at the boy, who was beginning to look uncomfortable.

* * *

"Sorry," said Peter. He toyed with a loose thread on the sleeve of his robe. "I'm Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

He hated to intrude on whatever these people had been doing, but he really had needed to escape those insane seventh-years.

"Hello, Peter!" said the messy-haired boy, the one sitting closest to him. He stood up and shook Peter's hand brightly. "James Potter, at your service."

"Hi," said another boy in the corner.

Peter hadn't really noticed him until then, as he had been in the corner of the compartment and making himself small. To Peter's...concern? Dismay? All he knew was that those scars the boy was covered in really freaked him out.

"I'm Remus Lupin," the boy continued, sending a small smile at him. "Nice to meet you."

The boys waited a few moments for the last one to introduce himself, but when it was clear he had no intention of doing so, James attempted to cover up the awkward moment by saying "And that there is Sirius Black."

"Nice to meet you all," said Peter. He paused. "Is it okay if I stay here for the rest of the trip? Those crazy girls were chasing me through the halls."

"Ooh," said James, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Popular with the ladies, are you?"

"I wish," said Peter. He sat down next to Sirius. "But no. They started chasing me through the hall after I 'stole their compartment'. I was in it the whole time!" he exclaimed. "But anyways, they tried to hex me, but I got away."

"Oh." James winced. "Not so popular with the ladies, then."

"Yeah," said Peter. "Well, girls are boring, anyway."

Soon, Sirius warmed up to Peter, and the four boys fell into easy conversation. Time flew, with them passing the trip with the rest of the sweets and Quidditch talk and whatever crossed their minds.

Before they knew it, they had almost arrived at Hogwarts, a voice chiming out, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Remus jumped up and pulled his trunk down from the overhead storage. "I need to go change!" he said, and ran out the door.

They sat in a comfortable silence as they waited for the last member of their group (the rest of them were already wearing robes). And when he returned, they followed each other out of the train and into the tiny, dark platform waiting for them.

Peter looked up at the starry skies of Hogwarts, then back at his — dare he say it? — _friends,_ who were laughing and stumbling into each other. He couldn't help but think that his life would never be the same again.


	15. A Tale of Snidgets and Unicorns

**Season Six, Round Three: A Tale of Snidgets and Unicorns**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- I couldn't find a lot of info on Golden Snidgets related to their natural habitat, behavior, etc., so I made some of the stuff up based on my knowledge of their physical features. If it's disproved by later canon, sorry!**

 **\- I've never been to an animal reserve, so I kind of improvised. Sorry for any inaccuracies.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Jurassic Park**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1028**

 **Beta'd By: desertredwolf and xxCallMeAmyxx. Thank you!**

* * *

"Welcome to the Modesty Rabnott Snidget Reservation," said the tour guide, gesturing broadly to the wooden sign above them. Beyond, a thick wood filled with tiny golden streaks was visible. This was surrounded by a low fence and shimmering wards, which were meant to keep the snidgets in. One Muggleborn in the group commented that they looked like heat waves radiating off of asphalt.

"Are you sure it's too late to leave?" Harry hissed, adjusting a sniffling Teddy in his arms. Teddy, it seemed, didn't like large crowds.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Teddy were standing at the entrance to the reserve with a crowd of other happy tourists, who were pressing in on them from all sides. Thankfully, they were under glamours, so there were no eager fans assaulting them, but Teddy was still uneasy.

"Of course I'm sure," said Hermione, her tone brooking no argument.

Harry really did make an effort to relax, but his shoulders were still visibly tense. Hermione and Ron gave each other a pointed, yet subtle, look. They had noticed their best friend coming home stressed from working at the Auror offices every day, so they had purchased tickets for a surprise tour of the local snidget reservation to get him to relax and unwind with his friends and godson.

"But I have some paperwork —"

"F—"

"Ronald! Teddy!"

"Er, _screw_ paperwork. Since when did you care about that? And besides, you're working yourself to exhaustion every day. That can't be healthy," said Ron firmly.

"Ugh," said Harry, but there was a faint smile on his face. " _Fine_."

They turned their attention back on the tour guide, who was still talking excitedly.

"First off," the guide said, enthusiasm clear on her face, "we have our first area of the tour. This is the main reservation, where we keep most of the Golden Snidgets. If we look over here" — she lead them over to a corner of the enclosure — "you can see the newest clutch of snidgets. These only hatched last week."

There was a chorus of _oohs_ and _awws_ directed at the tiny snidget chicks, which were hopping around their nest, tucked away amongst the higher branches in the tree.

"Want one!" said Teddy cheerfully, reaching his pudgy little hands toward the birds. "Hawwy! Want one!"

The air around the enclosure shimmered brighter, and then after a few moments, the shimmer faded altogether.

There was a pause.

And then all hell broke loose.

Screams pierced the air as Golden Snidgets darted up and away. The screams agitated the snidgets further, and caused them to fly all over the place. It was clear that the Golden Snitches were modeled after these agile birds.

"Do not panic," a cool voice said, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "All staff, please report to Snidget Enclosure A. Any willing volunteers, please report to the main office building to help our crew round up the Golden Snidgets."

"Hold Teddy!" said Harry, placing him in Hermione's arms and dashing off.

"You heard him," said Hermione, passing Teddy to Ron and running after Harry.

"Hold on tight, kid," said Ron, gripping Teddy and speeding in the direction Harry and Hermione had gone.

There was a considerably long line that had formed at the entrance to the building made of wizards and witches waiting to help.

Reservation officials were handing out broomsticks, and other volunteers were rounding up wizards and witches with equine Patronuses (snidgets were attracted to unicorns). Many people and Patronuses were already in the air, soaring through the thick cloud of screeching Golden Snidgets and corralling them back into the enclosure. Staff members were waiting on the ground, opening and closing the wards behind each batch of snidgets that had been ushered to them.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " said Harry. A silver stag burst from the end of his wand, pawing the ground.

"Oh, excellent!" said a harried-looking man, running up to him. "Could you —?"

"Ginny!" Harry interrupted, urgency evident in his tone. "Could you come over to the Modesty Rabnott Snidget Reservation? All of the snidgets have escaped, so we need people with horse Patronuses here. Ask any friends, too."

Harry sent the Patronus off with a wave of his wand and conjured another. He turned to the man in front of him, who had looked shocked at the name "Ginny".

"Sorry," Harry said. "Here, Prongs, go help."

The Patronus dashed off.

"And if I could grab a broomstick," said Harry quickly, "I could try and catch some snidgets. I was a pretty decent Seeker at school."

("Pretty decent?" Ron snorted.)

"Oh, thank you so much," said the volunteer. He ran off, looking quite stressed. He began to call some more. "Any people with Patronuses resembling unicorns in any way, please come forward!"

"Unicwon!" Teddy giggled and clapped his hands.

Suddenly, Ron turned into a bewildered-looking, bright orange unicorn. Instead of falling, Teddy gently floated to the ground.

There was a moment when time seemed to freeze. Then, as one, the Golden Snidgets swiveled their heads toward him and dived.

Unic-Ron made a sound that could be classified as a scream. He attempted to run away, but he was hindered by the foreign feeling of having more than two legs, along with the struggle of weaving through the dense trees.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, looking like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Hermione wasn't much better.

"Oh, oh Merlin," said the volunteer they had been talking to. He pulled out his wand and, along with the rest of the reservation's staff, tried to catch up to a screaming Unic-Ron and the chirping Golden Snidgets.

And, of course, that's when Ginny decided to show up.

"I'm he— _What in the name of Merlin is going on?_ And _why_ is that unicorn orange?"

"Er, long story," said Harry, wincing at her tone. The reservation staff was still chasing after the shrieking Unic-Ron.

"I've got time," said Ginny coolly, her expression only softening at Teddy's raucous laughter from Hermione's arms.

"Well," said Harry, bracing himself for the big explosion, "it all started when Ron and Hermione got us tickets to the Modesty Rabnott Snidget Reservation tour…"


	16. The Creation of Canary Creams

**Season Six, Round Four: The Creation of Canary Creams**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Because of this fact, and the competition's word count limit, a few scenes of this story have been cut out to meet regulations. If you want to see the extended edition, go see my profile. Now, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- So I'm aware that Canary Creams are supposed to turn people into "large canaries", and when they turn back they're supposed to "molt their feathers", but keep in mind that these are still the prototypes, and that these features can be added in later, once they've refined the potion.**

 **\- All textbooks and other resources for the twins and Lee that are mentioned in the story either come from my memory of the main series (the books, not the movies) or Harry Potter Wikia.**

 **\- I pretty much just made up the Gryffindor sixth-year schedule. It's not really that big of an issue, though.**

 **\- For the purposes of the story, Ron believed Harry when Harry told him that he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. You'll see when you get there.**

 **\- The Transfiguration algebraic equation comes from Lilly Caia, a reporter from the Quidditch League's Daily Prophet and fellow fanfiction author. Check out her stories! And if you ever read this, Lilly, thank you, and nice job on your sections of "Magical Theory with Lilly"!**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about someone turning into a household pet (by choice or otherwise) and living as one for a while.**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 3000**

 **Beta'd By: desertredwolf. Thank you!**

"Okay, I think we've done it," said Fred. He carefully watched the yellow mixture that was violently bubbling in the cauldron, in the hope that it wouldn't explode. "Yep. Seems safe to drink, at least."

Fred and George Weasley, with the help of Lee Jordan, were creating Canary Creams, a treat that would turn the consumer temporarily into a canary, hence the name. It would be a product for Fred and George's joke shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, once they graduated Hogwarts.

Currently, the three of them were sitting on the floor of the sixth-year Gryffindor dormitory, surrounding a cauldron that simmered over a small blue flame. Lee was jotting down the ingredients and procedures Fred used, while Fred mixed the potion. As George was testing the item, he was excused from doing any of the work, although that didn't make the position enviable.

"It had better be," said George, eyes fixated on the frothing brew, "or I swear I'm going to—"

"What, kill me?" said Fred brightly, giving the potion a final stir. He prodded it with his wand, causing the mixture to spark. "You wouldn't dare. We all know you're much too fond of me for that. You might as well cut off your own ear."

"If I cut off my own ear, I might finally have some peace and quiet," George muttered. "Why do _I_ have to test it, anyway?"

"We already went over this, mate." Lee ladled out some of the potion and poured it into a glass. "Last time, Fred tested the Puking Pastilles, and I tested the Fever Fudge before that. That makes it your turn."

George groaned. " _Fine_." He took the glass, which was beginning to melt slightly. "Bottoms up."

And with that, he downed the entire potion.

There was a moment of anticipation.

"Hey, shouldn't it have kicked i—?"

With a _pop_ , George was replaced by a startled-looking canary.

"Ha!" said Fred triumphantly, hi-fiving Lee. "It worked!"

"And if we did it right," said Lee, leaning eagerly toward the canary stumbling around on the floor, "George should be changing back right about—now."

Absolutely nothing happened.

"Er," said Lee awkwardly, " _now_."

Still, George remained as a canary, hopping about frantically on the floor.

"What happened?" said Fred, concern beginning to set in when his twin still didn't change back. "We didn't trap him as a canary forever, did we?"

Canary-George glared at him as best he could in his new form. _I knew this would happen_ , his beady bird eyes seemed to say.

Fred caught his expression. With a mock-hurt tone, he said, "You really have so little trust in me?"

George gave him a dry look, then pointed a wing at himself. Fred sobered as Lee picked up his log of the Canary Cream potion's creation.

"Hmm," said Lee, feverishly scanning his notes. His eyes widened once he came to a certain item on the list, then cross-referenced _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. "I think the Bowtruckle leaf here was supposed to be a Mandrake leaf!"

Fred said a word that, if their mother had been there, would have earned him twenty sessions of de-gnoming the garden. "What are we going to do now? We need to make an antidote fast, not to mention we still have classes tomorrow…!"

Fred looked up as Canary-George began to flutter his wings. Fred and Lee watched in curiosity as, after a few tries, he finally got in the air.

"Whoa, cool!" said Fred, as George began to get the hang of being airborne. "You're actually flying!"

George gave him a dry look. _No, really?_ Then he flew over to one of their roommate's owl cages and sat himself inside, staring at the two of them pointedly.

"I think," Lee said finally, after a few moments of deliberation, "George says that he's going to pretend to be our pet for a while."

George nodded frantically, then perched himself on Fred's shoulder.

"Okay," said Fred slowly. "Our plan is that my twin brother is going to pretend to be my pet canary?"

"That sums it up nicely," said Lee.

Fred glanced at Canary-George. "You'd better behave, or I'm telling everyone about my really cute _girl_ canary named Sugarpie McFluffykins."

Then he yelped as George poked him with a claw.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, people stared at the canary sitting on Fred's shoulder.

"When did you get a pet bird?" asked Angelina Johnson. She looked around with a concerned expression. "And where's George?"

"George's sick," said Fred quickly, slightly surprised she was able to tell them apart. They had already decided a cover story, and had left a mound of pillows shaped into a passable imitation of George's form on his bed. "He wasn't feeling well, so I forced him to stay in bed…"

"Oh," she said sympathetically. "Tell him I hope he gets well soon."

"That was close," Lee told Fred, once Angelina had left to go sit with her friends. "Do you think the professors'll buy it?"

"They'd better," said Fred, glancing at Canary-George, who was twittering quietly in his ear.

The first class they had that morning was Charms.

"George Weasley?" said Professor Flitwick, standing atop his stack of texts. He scanned the classroom. "No?"

"He's sick, Professor," Fred explained, putting on his best natural-looking casual expression. "I made him stay in bed so it wouldn't get worse."

Flitwick frowned, but he didn't question further. "Okay, then. Today, we'll be talking about Scouring Charms…"

As Flitwick began his lecture, Fred and Lee breathed a sigh of relief, George doing the same from Fred's book bag, which was open enough so that George had zero chance of running out of air.

As soon as the bell rang, signifying the end of class, Fred and Lee immediately jumped up and exited the classroom, heading the swarm of students spilling out of the room.

"Hey, George," Fred muttered discreetly into his bag, once he and Lee had ducked into a side corridor. "You okay in there?"

George twittered. It didn't sound distressed, so they took it as a yes.

Next was Transfiguration. Fred and Lee filed dutifully into the classroom, not making any sort of mischief once, so they were slightly surprised when she made a beeline toward their desks.

"Where is Mr. Weasley?" said McGonagall sternly, coming up to them. She had probably noticed the empty desk beside Fred's.

"I'm right—"

McGonagall gave Fred a stern look. Fred shut up.

"Again," she said, "where is the _other_ Mr. Weasley?"

"He's sick, Professor," said Lee politely. "He wasn't feeling good, so we told him to stay in the dorms."

Clearly suspicious, McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but as Fred and Lee still had on perfectly innocent expressions, she decided that they were telling the truth and strode up to the front of the classroom. However, she became even more suspicious when Fred and Lee sat quietly and took notes as studiously as anyone.

What she didn't know was that they were duly copying down the transformation equation "t = ((w x c)/(v x a)) x z" for use in a potion to revert George back to a human from a canary. If she had known, they would probably be down serving detention with Filch for weeks.

The next class they had was Potions. Unsurprisingly, Snape had taken off twenty points from Gryffindor for a student skipping class. But he hadn't had an excuse to take any more, as Fred and Lee (who, along with George, were the only ones who dared make any kind of trouble in Snape's class) actually focused on their work, as Fred was determined to pick up any information they could about brewing George an antidote.

Before they went off to lunch, Fred and Lee made a stopover to the library, pulling off any books with useful sounding titles. When they placed the books in front of Madam Pince, she openly gave them a suspicious look.

"What are you planning with my precious tomes?" she said, glaring at them.

"For _research?_ " said Fred slowly. "What else would we do with them, place them on our heads and hope the information just sinks into our skulls?"

Madam Pince sniffed. "I wouldn't put it past you hooligans."

It took a lot of persuading, but finally, the librarian allowed them to check out the books, under the condition that whatever damage was done to the books would be done to them. Really, this was kind, according to the rumors of some N.E.W.T level students who had attempted to take out some obscure books for their exams.

There was only a bit of time left of lunch by the time Fred, George, and Lee arrived at the Great Hall. They took seats near the end of the table, Fred cutting his ham into tiny bits for George as he intently read the _Ingredient Encyclopedia._

"Hey, where's...George...been?" asked Ron, coming up to them quite suddenly. Harry and Hermione stood behind him, Harry looking distinctly awkward.

"He's sick," said Fred shortly. He didn't elaborate further.

"Sick?" Ron questioned. "He seemed fine last night…"

"Well, you must have not been looking closely enough," Fred snapped.

"I'm just asking!" Ron said defensively. "No need to get so worked up about it!"

"Sorry," Fred muttered, then re-immersed himself into his book. Ron got the hint, and went back with Harry and Hermione to their seats.

"Calm down, mate," said Lee, once the trio was gone. "We have all day to research stuff for George. Don't worry about it."

Needless to say, Fred chose to ignore this advice, and replaced the _Ingredient Encyclopedia_ with _Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_.

To Fred, the rest of the day seemed to drag on for forever. By the time the last class of the day had ended, he was practically bouncing off of the walls in his impatience to get working on George's antidote.

"Okay," said Fred, dumping his bag unceremoniously on the ground once they had arrived at their dormitory. Thankfully, George—glad for the chance to stretch his wings—had already flown out of it, and was now hovering above Lee's head. "Lee, can I see the recipe?"

"Er—" Lee began to search for the parchment, finally finding it shoved in a corner underneath a roommate's bed. "Here," he said, handing over the slightly crinkled list.

Fred scanned through it, mumbling to himself. "Death's-Head Hawkmoth wings…mandrake leaves…mooncalf fur…"

"So to counter the effects of the moths, we can use ladybug exoskeletons," said Lee thoughtfully, checking through _Potion Opuscule_. "For the mandrake leaves, we'll add dugbog claws… And for the mooncalf fur, we can use Hodag fangs…"

And so it went for a good few hours, George occasionally fluttering near the textbooks and pecking at entries to get Fred and Lee's attention.

Eventually, however, night began to fall. The boys' roommates (who by now knew not to question the activities being done by the Weasley twins and Lee) arrived and went to bed, and both Fred's and Lee's eyes began to droop.

"Fred," said Lee finally, after catching himself nodding off into his textbook, "I think we really need to get to bed now."

"No!" Fred exclaimed, shaking himself awake. He pulled _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ toward himself with renewed vigor. "You go on to bed. I can't just leave George as a bird for who knows how long!"

"You'll be no help to him like this," said Lee gently. Fred was about ready to topple over with exhaustion, almost falling asleep and then shaking his head roughly. "We'll get straight back to it in the morning, I swear."

"But—"

George gave his twin an intense look, then settled himself on his pillow and gave him the closest thing he had to a smile. _Look, I'm fine!_

Fred sighed, really having no energy to argue. "Alright, _fine_."

Lee tucked their research into a folder and hid it inside Fred's nightstand. Then Fred and Lee climbed into their respective beds and fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

* * *

Thankfully, the next day was a Saturday, so Fred and Lee, with help from Canary-George, were able to spend most of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon doing research. (The rest of the student body—and the teachers—were beginning to become concerned for their wellbeing.)

By the time lunch rolled around, Fred, George (to a lesser extent), and Lee were confident enough to begin brewing.

But first, they needed ingredients.

"Anyone have any ideas?" Lee asked.

"What we usually do is steal from Snape," Fred said nonchalantly. "He has a lot more of the rare ingredients that the students aren't allowed to use."

Lee blanched. "How often, exactly, do you steal from Snape?"

Fred shrugged. "Every few weeks. Not often enough for him to get suspicious, and we don't steal so much that he'd notice anything gone."

"I think I liked it better when I didn't know where you got all of this stuff," said Lee after a moment. "Now I'm a bit fearful for my life."

Nevertheless, Lee accompanied Fred and George to the first floor corridor, where Snape's potion storeroom was hidden. George was sent off to scout the area ahead.

After a few moments, George flew back to them and chirped twice, the signal they had decided to signify that the corridor ahead was empty. Glancing around warily, Fred and Lee ran through the hallway and ducked into a secret passage at the other end.

"If my memory serves me correctly," Fred whispered, "Snape's storeroom should be right over there."

George gave him a dry look. _I can't believe your memory is actually working right, for once._

"Shut up, Sugarpie McFluffykins," said Fred, rolling his eyes. Lee looked between them, bewildered; even after all these years, he still wasn't able to follow a good portion of Fred and George's conversations.

George shrugged, or he would have if he had been human. _In case you haven't noticed, I'm currently unable to speak English right now._

"Maybe I'll just leave you as a bird, then," said Fred, smirking evilly. "I'll give you our first niece as a gift." He lowered his voice. "'Oh, hey, insert-niece's-name-here! Guess what? I have a gift for you! Check out this really cute canary I got you! Her name is Sugarpie McFluffykins! Have fun with her!'" He made his voice high and squeaky. "'Wow, thanks, Uncle Fred! You're my favorite—!'"

"Back to the topic," Lee interrupted, "are we going to steal Snape's ingredients or what?"

"Right," said Fred sheepishly, or as sheepishly as one of the Weasley Twins were capable of sounding. "Okay, remember, the plan is—"

"We've gone over it a million and one times, Fred!" Lee exclaimed. He pulled open the tapestry that was the entrance to the passage. "Let's just do it!"

"Righto!" said Fred, ducking out behind him. "Off we go, my merry band of—!"

 _Shut up!_ George gave him a pointed look. _We don't want to get caught now, do we?_

"Sorry," said Fred. He pointed at a green splotch on the wall ahead of them. "There!"

They stopped in front of a painting of a doe in a forest.

"So…" Fred grinned at Lee. "Got any ideas?"

"What?" exclaimed Lee. " _You're_ the ones who're supposed to know how to get in. How did you get all of your other ingredients, then?"

"The password changes all the time," Fred explained. "Last week it was 'emeralds,' for some odd reason. There doesn't really seem to be a pattern."

"There's no pattern?" Lee spluttered. "How am I supposed to guess, then? Why is it _always_ me?" he added under his breath.

And, to their surprise, the painting swung forward to let them in.

Fred beamed at Lee. "See, I knew you could do it!"

Lee groaned, dumped a bag with an Extension charm placed on it on the ground, and pulled from his pocket the list of ingredients for the antidote. "Okay, so we decided on ladybug shells…"

As Lee read the items off of the list, Fred and George collected one or two vials of all of the ingredients needed and deposited them into the bag. All of them were alert, waiting for any indication that Snape had returned.

Thankfully, the collection of ingredients went without incident, and the three of them strolled (and flew) casually back to the dormitories, looking like nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

Once they arrived back at their dormitory, Fred pulled out the cauldron from under his bed and conjured a tiny blue flame.

Fred peered at the list. "So, uh, canary down feathers, cherry blossom petals…"

It took quite a few hours (and more than a few explosions), but they finally got the antidote looking safe for consumption.

"Ready, George?" said Fred, scooping the potion into an owl bowl.

Looking a bit humiliated at having to drink out of the bowl like a bird (well, he _was_ one), he gulped down the potion as quickly as possible.

There was a moment of anticipation.

"Hey, shouldn't it have kicked i—?"

With a _pop_ , the canary was replaced by a startled-looking George (thankfully with his clothes on).

"Ha!" Fred exclaimed triumphantly.

Lee cheered. "It worked! We're _geniuses!_ "

George just looked relieved to be a human again.

"Next time we make anything that has to do with transforming people into things, _you're_ testing it," George grumbled. But then, unable to stay irritated, he laughed. "That was brilliant! It worked almost perfectly!"

"Those'll make us rich!" Fred said, grinning widely.

"But first, we need another test subject," said George. "I've got a few ideas for some modifications we can make."

Lee nodded. "Yeah, alright. But who'd volunteer to try anything we make?"

"Doesn't have to be willing," said Fred, smirking. "We'll pull the Canary Creams during a party and see what happens."

"Well, yeah," said George, "but who's naive enough to eat something _we_ set out?"

The three friends looked at each other and grinned.

"Neville."

* * *

 **Notes about Canary Cream potion ingredients and their counters:**

 **\- Death's-Head Hawkmoth wings: The moth's chrysalis is used in the Animagus transformation potion**

 **\- Ladybug exoskeleton: They symbolize fortune and prosperity, which is what they hope to earn by selling these and other products (also a reference to "Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir", to be honest)**

 **\- Mandrake leaves: These are also used in the Animagus transformation potion**

 **\- Dugbog claws: Dugbogs' main prey are mandrakes**

 **\- Mooncalf fur: The moon is an important aspect of the Animagus transformation; the moon (in all phases) is also a symbol of change**

 **\- Hodag fangs: Hodags mainly prey on mooncalves**

 **\- Sakura (cherry blossoms): Another symbol of change**

 **\- Canary down feathers: I think you should be able to work this out for yourself**


	17. I'll Be With You

**Season Six, Round Five: I'll Be With You**

 **A/N: Okay, so I joined the Quidditch League exactly a year ago, writing for season five, round five as a Chaser 1. I can't believe I've come this far from my horribly cringy writing! Everyone I've met on the forum has been insanely nice, and the competition is such a fun way to hone my writing skills. I can't believe I've been on that long! In honor of this fact, I've decided to write this companion to "I Was With You", complete with the classic five dot line breaks! Enjoy!**

 **A/N2: A ton of this story was cut to meet QL regulations; the extended edition of this is 4682 words long, and the limit is supposed to be 3000, so yeah... Check out my profile for the full version of "I'll Be With You."**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

\- " **Threads of Time" was written by my friend and Puddlemere's Seeker, gr8rockstarrox. Go check her stories out!**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Use the title of a story written by your Seeker for inspiration.**

 **Optional Prompt (Story Title): "Threads of Time"**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 2992**

 **Beta'd By: TartCat207 and desertredwolf. Thank you both! Special thanks to Dessie for going through the mess that the first draft of this fic, and providing all of the feedback with tenses and POV.**

* * *

 _(May, 1997)_

Fred and George sat on the floor of the lab, a cauldron bubbling before them. Done right, the potion would increase the strength of the items in their Shield line.

"We need armadillo bile," George said, stirring the cauldron.

"Really?" Regardless, Fred stood and took some bile from the cupboard. George had always been better at Potions. "I'd've thought porcupine quills."

"No," George explained, pouring in the bile and making the potion fizz. "The bile makes the protection stronger because armadillos have armor, right?"

"Yeah, but porcupine quills are pointy," Fred countered. "You wouldn't cuddle a porcupine."

"Fair enough," said George, adding some, too. The potion turned a promising shade of purple.

•••••

 _(June, 1997)_

Fred and George sat at Dumbledore's funeral with the other Weasleys, donning dragon-hide jackets bought for the occasion. The Hogwarts grounds were more filled than they'd ever seen; even with hundreds of chairs out, there were two times that standing.

"What happened?" Fred whispered to Bill. His face was horribly disfigured, so much that Fred hadn't initially recognized him. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Bill said dryly. He sobered. "Greyback got me. It wasn't the full moon, but the scars are still cursed. Madam Pomfrey did her best."

"So are you part-werewolf now?" asked George.

"Apparently, I've got 'wolfish characteristics,'" Bill said wryly. "So far, all I've noticed is a new preference for rare steak."

They went silent as Hagrid carried Dumbledore past. Fred and George shifted so their shoulders touched.

•••••

 _(July, 1997)_

Fred and George were at an Order meeting, where they were trying to come up with a plan to get Harry out of Privet Drive. So far, Moody had been able to poke holes in each plan suggested, so everyone was getting frustrated.

"How 'bout we have seven Potters?" Mundungus piped up suddenly.

"Sorry?" said Remus, looking over in surprise.

"We make another six with Polyjuice, right?" Mundungus slurred, looking as though he was not entirely sober. "Then we fly 'im away…"

Moody looked thoughtful. "That could work."

"Really?" Arthur said, frowning in thought. "Why would we need six of Harry?"

"They won't know which Potter to target," Moody said before Mundungus could say anything. "Each one of him—accompanied by a protector—could go to different safe houses, and by the time the Death Eaters figure out which one's real, we'll be all at the Burrow."

"Who'll Polyjuice into Harry?" Tonks asked. "I could do it, I'm a Metamorphmagus, I could just change to look like him—"

"No," Moody said immediately. "You'll be better as a protector. You fight too efficiently, for a teenager."

Moody began to rattle off choices for fake-Harrys, and Fred knew he was weighing the advantages of each. "The three youngest Weasley boys, Granger, Delacour, and Dung, he'll be worthless as a protector."

There were immediate protests.

"Why can't George and I be a pair?" Fred said loudly. "Everyone knows that we work better when we're partners—"

"They'll be expecting Potter to be with the most experienced Order members," Moody said sharply. "Potter being with a teenager would be a dead giveaway."

"Nineteen!" George protested. "Practically twenty!"

"Your birthday is in April," Arthur said dryly. "You're closer to nineteen than twenty. But the point is, it's safer for you two to be paired with a more experienced Order member"

Fred stood up angrily _. How could anyone even think about separating them?_ "But—!"

"You're twins," Kingsley said in an annoyingly placating tone. "It would be painfully obvious that you weren't Harry when you two seem to be able to read each other's minds the way you always do."

"Besides," Remus said calmly, "if there are any Death Eaters who recognized you, they'd immediately be suspicious when only one of you was in the battle, right? I don't think I've seen you two apart since I met you."

Fred opened his mouth, scrambling for another argument, but he came up blank. A glance at his twin told him that he was also out of ideas.

"Fine," Fred huffed, sitting back down. "Doesn't mean we have to like it."

•••••

 _(August, 1997)_

Fred and George chatted up Fleur Delacour's Veela cousins at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"So," Fred began, beaming, "we—"

But he never finished his sentence. A chill swept through the garden, silencing the crowd. Fred craned his neck to see over everyone, and glimpsed a Patronus fading.

Then— _chaos_. People were running, screaming, firing spells left and right. Fred and George pushed people aside.

"Mum! Dad!" Fred yelled, as George covered them with a ' _Protego.'_ "What's going—?"

An explosion rocked the garden, and George sank to the ground, hands covering his ear and the hole in his head. Fred dropped down beside him.

"What's wrong?"

"Ear—hurts—" George murmured. "Feels like—gonna puke—"

"Hold on," Fred said, eyes darting around. "Deep breaths."

Finally, George recovered enough to stand. "Okay," he said, only slightly shaky on his feet, "let's go help—"

"No," Fred interrupted. "We need to go back to the shop."

"What?" George sputtered. "We can't leave everyone!"

"We have to," Fred said firmly, though also feeling guilty. "You might have another attack, and then you might"—his voice faltered—"might get hit."

"But—"

"No."

And before George could say another word, Fred Apparated them to their flat.

"What was that for?" George demanded. He made to Apparate back, but Fred grabbed his arm.

"The battle's probably over by now," Fred said unsurely. "We'd've just been a distraction. And your ear might've flared up and you might've—y'know." Fred couldn't say it. "It's better we got out when we did."

George opened his mouth to protest, then sighed. "Fine. But we're joining the next battle."

"Deal."

They shook on it.

•••••

 _(September, 1997)_

Fred was in their flat, being shaken from a nightmare.

"Are you okay?" George asked urgently.

Fred looked up, relieved to see his twin sitting there, panicked but _alive_.

"I—yeah," Fred said finally, forcing his breathing to slow. "Yeah, fine."

"What was that about?" George asked, looking concerned. "That looked like a bad one."

"It was stupid," Fred said, looking back down. "Just—go back to sleep."

"Was it about my ear?" George said knowingly. Fred cursed the fact that they knew each other so well.

The Battle of the Seven Potters had been on Fred's mind for weeks. He could barely stand to let George out of his sight anymore, for fear of the worst. Fred could tell George was becoming exasperated by his overprotectiveness, but he couldn't help thinking.

 _What if he'd lost George?_

Fred was no stranger to death. With the early losses of his uncles Gideon and Fabian in the first war, then Uncle Bilius a few years later, he couldn't stay naïve for long. But somehow, he'd always assumed that he and George would go out the way they'd arrived: together. After all, that's how it'd happened with Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian.

But the Battle had opened his eyes, and suddenly Fred knew that he and George could be separated in a heartbeat.

"No—well, maybe," Fred conceded, when George gave him a _look._ "See, I told you it was stupid."

"I'm fine," George said gently, sitting down. "It's been months."

Slightly defensively, Fred mumbled, "You weren't the one to see your body there, all bloody and—"

He cut himself off, shuddering.

"But still," George continued, "you can't keep worrying over me like this. It's getting unhealthy."

"I know I shouldn't," Fred whispered. "But I can't help it."

•••••

 _(October, 1997)_

Fred and George had just finished reading a letter from Ginny. Fred dashed around the shop, gathering items and stuffing them into an enchanted bag, while George penned a reply.

 _Fred and George,_

 _As your favorite sister, I've got to ask: Could you send us some Wheezes, like Skiving Snackboxes and Darkness Powder?_

 _I know you could get in serious trouble, but things at Hogwarts are getting worse. The kids need an escape from the Carrows—Death Eaters—and the DA could use any help we can get. Some half-blood firsties were taken to the dungeons—that's why I'm writing you. The DA's going to break them out. And who knows what else the Carrows'll try! We can't just watch._

 _So we need your help. Since your products are banned here, if you agree, send them in disguise. Thanks!_

 _Love,_

 _Ginny_

"Shield Cloaks, you think?" Fred asked, grabbing some off the rack. He Transfigured them to look like Hogwarts uniforms. "Y'know, in case those Carrows try anything."

"Sounds good," George said, adding them to the inventory of items he was writing to Ginny. "Grab some Decoy Detonators, too, and Headless Hats. To keep their anonymity."

Fred nodded, cramming the Cloaks, Detonators, and Hats into the bag. "We should probably put a bit of everything."

"Could we enchant the bag to be connected to one here?" George asked thoughtfully, putting down his quill. "We could put something in our bag, and then it'll appear in Ginny's."

"I think so," Fred said, dropping the bag on the couch. "But if we're going to give it to her with this letter, we're going to have to figure it out fast. Those little half-bloods are counting on us!"

•••••

 _(November, 1997)_

Fred and George were saying goodbye to Verity. She, as Muggleborn, was retreating to the Muggle world to hide. It was that or be killed.

"I'm really sorry, Misters Weasley," Verity said, glancing around nervously, "but—"

"Don't worry about it," George said firmly. "Go hide, and if you want to come back after this is all over, there'll always be a place for you here."

"Thank you so much," Verity said fervently. She went to exit, but then turned and gave a final wave. "I'll see you when it's over."

"Wait," Fred said, grabbing a bag off of the shop counter. He pressed it into her hands. "There's some Darkness Powder, a Shield Cloak, a Comb-a-Chameleon, and some other stuff. Just in case."

Verity smiled. "Thank you."

Then she turned and walked out of the shop.

"I hope she'll be okay," George said, watching her go.

•••••

 _(December, 1997)_

Fred and George were at the Burrow, "celebrating" Christmas. They knew their mother had been preparing for weeks, but it didn't feel right. Bill was with Fleur, Charlie was in Romania, Percy was at the Ministry, and Ron was off somewhere with Harry and Hermione. Fred, George, and Ginny tried to keep morale up, but the war atmosphere was getting to everyone.

"Wow, Mum, everything looks delicious," George said, sitting down. "I could eat as much as R—"

He cut himself off, but the damage had been done. Molly sniffed and tried to Conjure a tissue, but she accidentally picked up a trick wand. It turned into a rubber dragon, causing her to weep harder.

"Sorry," Molly said finally, after composing herself. "Sorry."

The meal was somber after that. Fred and George tried to lighten the mood, cracking joke after joke, but there was no forgetting there was something—six somethings—missing.

•••••

 _(January, 1998)_

Fred and George lay on the roof of Auntie Muriel's house—where the Weasleys were hiding—discussing the war. Fred knew it was their job to remind people that the dark hadn't won yet, that it was still okay to laugh. But it was getting harder to stay optimistic.

"Do you think we can even win?" Fred asked, looking up at the stars.

They were thinking the same thing: Under the same sky, were Ron, Harry, and Hermione fighting for their—and the rest of Britain's—lives? Was Percy standing behind Thicknesse, rising through the ranks as the government crumbled around him? Was Bill holding Fleur close, waiting until they could start a family without fearing for their child's life?

"We have to," George said firmly. "Evil can't win. Good will eventually triumph."

"This isn't some cliché novel _,_ " said Fred, scoffing. George had always believed in that kind of thing. Fred was more cynical. "Our 'savior' is a _teenager_. The resistance to the dark are all scattered underground. The Ministry and Hogwarts have been taken over by Death Eaters. But, no, _sure_ we'll win."

" _Fred_." George frowned.

Fred rolled his eyes. "The odds are stacked against us."

"We have to trust Harry," George whispered. "If we give up, the dark's already won."

"Yeah?" Fred tipped his head back. Stars winked at him, and briefly, Fred had an absurd desire to wink back.

"Fate never lets the bad guys win," George said. "At least, I think it doesn't."

"Fate?" Fred repeated sceptically. "I always thought that we had a say in how our lives go. We control our actions, don't we?"

"I don't know," George said. "Apparently, the greatest minds are still working on that question."

They looked at each other, then silently turned and went back inside.

•••••

 _(February, 1998)_

Fred and George walked through Hogsmeade, on their way to the Three Broomsticks. It might've been a war, but—despite having to take precautions—they weren't about to let it get between their friendships.

"Hey!" Angelina Johnson said, once they entered, shivering slightly. They were disguised as tall brunettes, which they'd told Angelina. "Glad you made it!"

"Hi," George said, blushing faintly.

Fred nudged George and smirked. He'd been aware of George's fancy almost as long as George himself, and he took every opportunity to tease his twin.

"Shut up," George mumbled, shooting Fred a _look_.

Fred just smiled innocently.

They followed Angelina to a table, where Alicia was sitting and laughing with two others. They were unfamiliar, but when Fred shot Angelina a questioning look, she hissed, "Katie and Lee."

"So how've things been?" Alicia asked, as Fred and George sat down and took a Butterbeer. She gave them an intense look, a signal that she wasn't asking about how the shop was doing.

Fred glanced around furtively, then cast a ' _Muffliato.'_ "Privacy charm," he explained, at their friends' questioning looks. "From the Order."

They nodded. "I know you can't tell us much," Katie said, lowering her voice regardless, "but have you got any news?"

"Luna Lovegood's been abducted from the Hogwarts Express," George said softly. Fred felt a pang of sympathy for Ginny. "It's all been hushed up."

"That's horrible," Angelina said. "Any leads?"

"Nothing concrete," Fred said. "Hopefully they'll find her soon."

They murmured condolences. Then Fred nodded and canceled the privacy charm.

"Yeah, our stuff's a bit expensive, but the high prices are worth it, we hope," Fred said, as though continuing a previous conversation. He winked at Angelina. "But I'm sure George wouldn't mind giving you a discount."

" _Fred!_ " George hissed.

"What?" Fred smiled charmingly. " _They're_ our friends. Friends give friends discounts, right?"

"Right," George muttered, glaring.

•••••

 _(March, 1998)_

Fred and George were on _Potterwatch_ , helping Lee Jordan tell everyone the truth about the war.

"Thank you, Rodent," Lee said, his voice having a different lilt than normal. He sounded similar to the way he had during Quidditch matches, yet there was a more serious quality to his voice. "Remember: Shield Charms, Polyjuice, Felix Felicis. All are your friends!"

"Precisely," Fred said. He grinned at Lee. "But I'm Rapier, remember?"

People could use all of the cheer they could get, and the "I'm-not-Fred-I'm-George!" trick had yet to fail him.

"No, you're definitely Rodent," Lee said, grinning. Fred cheered inwardly; their friend hadn't smiled in too long. "Rapier's the better-looking one."

"Ouch."

George laughed.

•••••

 _(April, 1998)_

Fred and George celebrated (though they didn't know it) their final birthday together. Despite the war—and the fact that they were stuck at Auntie Muriel's house—they made sure their birthday party was as extravagant as possible, with neon Weasley's Wizard Wheezes decorations plastered everywhere. Everyone that was able attended.

"Are you ready, boys?" Molly asked, sticking candles into the cake. She smiled at them as they scrambled to the head of the table.

Everyone burst into an off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday," all of them ending at different times. Lee constantly interrupted with a "Cha cha cha!" as payback for Fred and George doing the same to him during _his_ birthdays (it was really a never-ending loop of payback).

Once they'd finished, Fred and George blew out the candles together, beaming.

Molly took the knife and cut the cake, then placed each slice on a plate. She handed one to each twin with a smile, though slightly apprehensively.

Fred and George took the plates and put a piece of cake on their forks, getting ready to feed it to each other. It was a tradition that'd been going on as long as they could remember.

Then they took the cake and shoved it in the other's face, laughing loudly. This was another time-honored tradition for Weasley twin birthday parties.

"Happy birthday, Fred," George said, grinning.

"Happy birthday, George," Fred replied.

•••••

 _(June, 1998)_

In the end, none of it mattered—not the Shield Cloaks, not the promises they'd made to each other. Nothing mattered.

Because George was now alone.

He picked up a photo from Bill and Fleur's wedding. It'd been taken before the wedding had been attacked; he and Fred were dancing, and Auntie Muriel was visibly scandalized. It was a happier moment, even when the marks of war were visible. George touched the side of his head where his ear had once been.

At least he had a hole to match the one in his heart.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt that he should've run out of them by now, but at the same time, he knew he never would.

 _You were right to be scared,_ he thought. _You knew one of us would lose the other. Somehow, you knew, and yet, we still fought in the battle. And I lost you. I'm sorry I didn't believe you._

He set the photo back down on his dresser. The room—his _life_ —had never felt so empty.

 _Why did you have to leave me? Could I have done something to save you? It's all my fault._

 _Why can't I join you? Please…_

 _Come back._


	18. Mystery in the Mansion

**Season Six, Round Six: Mystery in the Mansion**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about a character born in July.**

 **Optional Prompt: Harry Potter**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 2485**

 **Beta'd By: desertredwolf. Thank you!**

"Wow," Ron said, stopping in his tracks and staring down the street at the building at the end. "That's _nothing_ like the stereotypical old mansion."

Harry and Ron were in Knockturn Alley, picking their way through rubble and dust. The two Aurors had been assigned to check out a dilapidated mansion, which was surrounded by rumors that it was housing an ancient, possibly Dark, artifact.

"Well," Harry said, following Ron's gaze, "I suppose it made it easier to find the place, at least."

They looked up as they arrived at the front door. The building was old and crumbling, though it looked as if it might have been extravagant in the past. Ivy snaked up and down the sides of the structure, seeming to choke the life out of it.

"True," Ron said. He rolled up his sleeves and brandished his wand. "Let's just get this over with. _Lumos!_ "

After they both lit their wands, Harry and Ron pushed open the creaking door. The two of them glanced around warily, stepping inside of the building and poking around.

So far, nothing seemed amiss. The place was creepy, but there was nothing inherently _dark_ about the whole thing. The most magical thing Harry had found was a dead doxy lying on the floor.

"What do you reckon?" Ron whispered. He shined his wandlight into a corner and jumped back with a small shriek when a spider scuttled away.

"We should probably go farther," Harry replied under his breath, ears pricked for any other sound of movement. "Maybe the artifact is somewhere in the middle of this ruin."

They picked their way deeper into the mansion. All of their revealing spells, training, and personal experience made no difference; it seemed as though there was simply nothing there. Eventually, as the sky began to darken, they were forced to admit defeat.

"Come on, we should probably get out of here," Ron said, setting an old picture frame on the dresser from which it had been taken. He leaned against the wall. "It's —"

But what it was, Harry never found out. For at that moment, Ron fell through the wall.

"Ron?" Harry asked in alarm. He ran up to the wall and pressed his hands against it, searching for the outline of any kind of secret door. "Ron?"

"Try leaning against it like I did!" Ron's voice called through the stone.

Harry did so, and with a curse, he stumbled through the wall and into Ron, sending them crashing to the floor.

"Nice landing." Ron's voice was muffled by Harry, who had landed on top of him. "Real graceful."

"Shut up," Harry said, scrambling off him and helping a disgruntled Ron to his feet. Ignoring Ron's muttering under his breath, Harry looked around. "Where are we?"

As far as Harry could tell, they were in some sort of hallway. It was so long and so poorly lit, however, that there was no way to tell how long it went on for.

Ron's eyes darted back and forth. "I dunno. Maybe that artifact's hidden here."

Holding their lit wands in front of them, they walked forward, wary of any traps set. But it seemed as though the hallway was clear.

"Don't you get the feeling that this should be more difficult?" Ron muttered.

Harry nodded. He had been feeling the same way.

They took another step forward, and torches hung on the wall flared to life. Illuminated on the wall in front of them was what seemed like an illegible collection of wedge-shaped symbols. In the wall, there were also three small holes, each about the circumference of a baseball, arranged in a triangle formation.

Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the adventure movies that Dudley had enjoyed so much during their youth. The torches lighting themselves seemed a bit cliché.

"Is this a written version of a magical language?" Harry asked, running a finger over the marks. "Maybe Gobbledegook or Mermish?"

"I don't think so," Ron said slowly. From his pocket, he pulled a pen and a notebook (Harry had shown him the Muggle objects, and they both found it easier to carry these around than quills and parchment). "I'll write all those weird lines down. Hermione will probably be able to figure out what the symbols are, if she doesn't recognize them at first glance."

* * *

"I've got it!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly, running into the room and waving a sheet of parchment in the air.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were at Grimmauld Place, a few hours after Harry and Ron had returned from their mission. As soon as Harry and Ron had explained to her about the secret passage and the wall at the end, Hermione had immediately gone to work on deciphering the code.

"I originally looked at magical languages, because the witches and wizards in Knockturn Alley would probably want to stick to those," Hermione explained, beginning to talk faster in her excitement, "but none of them matched these wedges you drew here. But then I remembered something from History class when I was still in Muggle primary school. Cuneiform, one of the earliest forms of written language, used by the people of the Fertile Crescent!"

"What does it say, then?" Ron said expectantly.

"Oh, right!" Hermione looked down at her parchment. "It says:

"'To enter here, fill these holes

With treasures worth more than gold

"'Plumes of flame from one everlasting

Mares of magic's hairs of rear

The emotions of one who rules earth and sky."

Harry and Ron were quiet.

"Er," Ron said hopefully, after a few moments of silence, "have you got any idea what that means?"

Hermione huffed. "Oh, honestly, it isn't that difficult." She handed them the parchment with the decoded symbols, which Harry and Ron looked over as she began to explain.

"'Plumes of flame from one everlasting' refers to phoenix feathers. You know, they're immortal, and their feathers are worth 'more than gold.' 'Mares of magic's hairs of rear' are unicorn tail hairs, which, again, are worth more than gold. The last one was harder, whoever came up with this could have done better than 'emotions,' but I'm pretty sure that the riddle is talking about dragon heartstrings. You know the phrase 'tugging on my heartstrings.'"

"Phoenix feathers, unicorn tail hairs, dragon heartstrings," Harry repeated, frowning slightly in thought. Then he realized something. "Those are all Ollivander wand cores!"

"Why wand cores, though?" Ron said. "D'you think there's a specific reason why?"

"It could have something to do with the whatever's hidden past the wall," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Or maybe the magical properties of the ingredients are important to the puzzle. Or they could have some kind of symbolic meaning. Or it could even just be a coincidence."

"Well, either way," Harry said, "somehow we need to get our hands on this stuff. Do you think Charlie would be able to get us some dragon heartstring?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "When the dragons die — of natural causes, of course — the tamers take their bodies and strip them for ingredients. The people in charge don't like to waste the bodies when you can make so much money off of them. Charlie doesn't exactly like that practice, but I think he can get his hands on a bit of heartstring."

"That's the dragon heartstring taken care of," Hermione said briskly. "Now we need phoenix feathers and unicorn hair. Hagrid will be able to provide us with the unicorn hair; he has whole spools of it in his hut. But how will we get phoenix feathers?"

* * *

Harry pushed through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, his hood down to prevent being spotted. Around him, the other witches and wizards were being louder and more boisterous than ever, in light of the recently won war.

Harry was alone on this mission. Ron and Hermione had wanted to join him, but Harry had insisted that the two take some time off and have a date. So it was by himself that Harry ducked into the dusty old shop that was Ollivander's.

Garrick Ollivander had recovered quickly after the war, considering that he had been locked in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor for months. Only days after the war had ended, Ollivander had returned to the shop to continue selling wands to witches and wizards in need.

"Hello?" Harry called into the seemingly empty shop. The hairs on the back of his neck stood from the magic that permeated the air.

"Ah," a whispery voice said, its owner stepping forward from behind a shelf. Ollivander peered at him. "Mr. Harry Potter. I remember your wand well. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple. It shared a core with the wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Er, yes," Harry said awkwardly. "Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me about your wand cores."

If anyone would know about the three ingredients, it would be the wandmaker himself. Harry was sure that with Ollivander's explanation, he, Ron, and Hermione could figure out why the specific cores were needed. It would also be helpful to find where the wandmaker got his ingredients from.

"The creation of wands is a complex study," Ollivander said, eyes seeming to pierce through Harry. "It cannot easily be summarized. However, I shall try." He gave a meaningful pause. "Unicorn hairs are the most consistent wand cores, and are quite loyal to their owners. However, they are the weakest of the cores, and are prone to 'dying' when mishandled, causing the hair to be replaced."

Harry nodded, trying to memorize the information.

"Dragon heartstrings produce the most flamboyant and powerful magic," Ollivander went on, "and learn different types of magic quickly. They are easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, and are least difficult to be won away than the other cores.

"Phoenix feathers are the rarest and most versatile of cores," Ollivander continued, "and are choosy about their masters. They have the unique attribute of acting of their own accord."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, remembering the incident during the flight from Privet Drive. No one had believed him when he'd told them that his wand had saved him and Hagrid without Harry casting a spell.

"Thank you," was what Harry said, however. "Also, I was wondering where you got the ingredients for your wands?"

"Homemade wands can be dangerous to use, and in some cases, even deadly." Ollivander levelled him with a stern gaze.

"Oh, no," Harry amended hastily. "I don't want to make my own wand. No, this is for a Auror mission."

"Well, in that case," Ollivander said, "there are apothecaries that sell high-quality wand cores…"

* * *

"Here, pass the cores to me."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were back in the hallway, about to open up the wall. Hermione had the ingredients in her beaded bag.

"One moment." Hermione rummaged around in the bag, then held up the cores to Harry and Ron. "Be careful with these, okay?"

"Of course," Harry said, grinning as he accepted the phoenix feathers. "When am I _not_ careful?"

Hermione gave him a dry look as he and Ron stuffed the handfuls of core into the holes.

Harry grimaced slightly. "Actually, don't answer that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did it work?"

"Just give it a moment, Hermione," Ron said.

And sure enough, with a loud grating noise, the wall slid to the side, similarly to an automatic door in supermarkets. Behind it was another corridor.

"Come on," Harry said, stepping forward.

Each with lit wands, they ventured deeper into the mansion. They walked for what seemed like hours, checking for traps along the way, though they found none.

Finally, they arrived at a circular chamber at the end of the hall. Above them, in the center of the ceiling, a lantern gave off what seemed more like sunlight than firelight. In clay pots around the circumference of the room, different species of miniature trees grew. A bucket hung above each tree, likely used to water the plants. In the center of the room, there was a simple stone table. And, hanging from a rope above it, was a sheet of parchment.

Hermione went straight for the plants. "Fascinating!" she exclaimed. "These trees can't have seen the sun or had fresh air in years, and yet, they're all perfectly healthy!"

"Interesting," Harry said absentmindedly. He pulled the note off the rope and scanned it. "Hermione?" he asked. "What do these mean?"

"Huh?" Hermione shook her head to clear it. "Oh. Let me see."

Harry showed her the parchment. "Oh!" said Hermione immediately. "These are Anglo-Saxon runes!"

"Is there nothing you don't know?" Ron said incredulously.

"Double negative," Hermione said absently, her focus on translating the runes.

"Huh?"

"You used two negatives, 'nothing' and 'don't.' Oh, nevermind." Hermione looked up. "It's another riddle:

"'Next, you must take these woods

And place them on the altar of stone

"'One who gossips

One who drones

One who's stubborn

One who moans.'"

Harry and Hermione both looked confused, but Ron let out a breath of relief.

"I thought that'd be harder!" he said, smiling.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's an old childrens' rhyme," Ron explained. "Mum didn't really believe it until Charlie got an ash wand. 'Rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans.'"

Hermione was already collecting branches from each of those trees. Once she had one of each, she placed them on the table and stepped back.

The branches sank into the stone, and, with a loud groan, the table slid to the side, revealing a stairway.

Cautiously, they went down the stairs. This time, the journey was short, and a few minutes later, they arrived in a small, lamp-lit room. In the middle was a pedestal, and on it was a thick leather tome.

Hermione beelined to the book, brushing the dust off the cover reverently. She gasped when she saw the words written on the front.

"What?" Ron asked, going up behind her and peering over her shoulder. Harry did the same. "More runes? What do they mean?"

"Oh my goodness," Hermione said faintly. "It translates to 'Magick Wand Creation by Galiena Ollivander'!"

"Uh, cool?" Ron said carefully.

"Do you know what this means?" Hermione exclaimed. "Galiena Ollivander created the wand of Merlin himself! And these are her notes!" She shot a Preserving Charm at the book, then carefully placed it in her bag. "We should bring these to Ollivander."

"Come on, then," Harry said, smiling. Hermione's excitement was contagious. "Let's go!"

* * *

"I believed that these were lost forever," Ollivander said, ghosting a finger over the book. "Thank you."

It was a few days later, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were at Ollivander's, returning the notes to the rightful owner.

"It was nothing," Harry said. "And they're yours, anyway. We just found them and returned them to you."

Ollivander looked at them. "These will be put to good use, I assure you."

"I never doubted it."


	19. Imitating Life

**Season Six, Round Six: Imitating Life**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Reserve Chaser 2, written by Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about a character born in July.**

 **Optional Prompt: Harry Potter**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1120**

 **Beta'd By: desertredwolf and obscurialdefenseclub. Thank you!**

"' _I was_ _afraid of death_ _,' said Nick. 'I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't to have… Well, that is neither here nor there… In fact, I am neither here nor there…' He gave a small sad chuckle. 'I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for_ _I chose my_ _**feeble imitation of life**_ _instead…'"_

 _~ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

It is May 3, 1998. The night after the Battle of Hogwarts.

There were so many losses. Fred Weasley. Nymphadora Tonks Lupin. Remus Lupin. Colin Creevey. Lavender Brown. And many, many more.

However, there are some who died that are not mourned.

Namely, Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort, who was so afraid of death that he was willing to twist his soul into something so dark, tearing his humanity to shreds.

It should have been no surprise that he would return as a ghost.

Currently, Harry is sitting against the remains of the outer walls of Hogwarts, watching the sun set. In the distance is the body of Voldemort, lying silently on the grounds.

No one possessed the nerve to move it.

Harry is thinking that he should probably go back inside when he sees it.

From the body rises a figure, and the soul is much too tainted to be the white of normal ghosts. Pieces of the spirit are missing, large chunks out of the torso and legs and arms. The soul was torn from the Horcruxes—the shards of soul hidden in those objects were lost forever.

The ghost goes over to Harry. He floats, drifts, the movement nothing like the firm, assured, purposeful steps that he had used in life.

Harry jumps to his feet, his wand in his hand before he knows what's happening. With a surprisingly steady hand, he points his wand at Voldemort.

Voldemort approaches, and his body—is that the right word, when one is dead?—goes straight through Harry's arm, causing him to shudder from the sudden chill.

"You will never be free from me," Voldemort says, his icy fingers running along Harry's jaw, and Harry's vividly reminded of _that night_.

Harry jerks backward instinctively, but there is nowhere for him to go. His body is pressed up against the castle walls.

Then he remembers that Voldemort is a ghost, an intangible being. How he forgot that, he doesn't know, seeing as his arm is still surrounded by the dark mist. So he runs straight through the ghost, shivering from the sensation of being drenched in freezing water.

Harry sprints into the castle, leaping over piles of rubble to get to Gryffindor Tower (the tower has been enchanted so that no ghosts can enter). Voldemort can float surprisingly fast, but Harry is faster. The Fat Lady swings open for him without need for a password, and the last thing Harry hears from her is a gasp of shock before the portrait closes behind him.

Harry skids to a stop inside the Common Room. Most people are asleep, finally giving in to the exhaustion after the battle, but for a select few.

All of the Weasleys—Hermione leaning into Ron's side—are awake, taking up the couches before the fireplace. Parvati Patil is sitting silently in an armchair in the corner, tears streaming down her face, her twin sister Padma from Ravenclaw with an arm around her shoulders. (George Weasley glances at the two every so often, a bitter look in his eyes.) Dennis Creevey is at a table, eyes transfixed on a very familiar camera.

Harry makes a beeline for Ron and Hermione, both with red-rimmed eyes. "Hey," he whispers, trying not to attract too much attention, "I need to talk to you."

They recognize the look in Harry's eyes.

"Sure," Ron says, the two of them standing. "What's wrong?"

Though he seems calm on the outside, Harry can tell that he's not. Being best friends with him for years doesn't count for nothing. But he doesn't push, seeing that Ron—and Hermione, for that matter—need something to take their minds off things.

Harry, looking between their concerned eyes, decides that this is something best said quickly.

"Voldemort returned as a ghost."

Hermione's hands fly up to her mouth, eyes widening. " _No!_ "

"After all that effort to get rid of him," Ron says, huffing out a sigh to cover his hopelessness, "and he comes back to haunt us forever?"

Harry tries to cheer them up. "At least he can't hurt us anymore."

"I suppose," Hermione says. "Ghosts can't cast spells, can they?"

"No," Ron says. "The only object that stays with them is their clothing. So they can't use wands."

That's a bit of reassurance, but that doesn't change the fact that Lord Voldemort is forever tethered to the earth.

* * *

The next morning, the Great Hall is crowded with battle-worn witches and wizards. The boundaries between the Houses has practically dissolved. Although the House tables are still clearly labeled, people simply sit with their friends and family, paying no mind to the colors of the flag above them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are sitting with the Weasleys at what used to be the Gryffindor table, looking for any sign of Voldemort's ghost. No one notices anything off about them—they are tense and watchful, but then, everyone else is, too. People are more concerned with grieving for their dead loved ones.

"Where is he?" Ron asks under his breath. "He should've shown up by now, right?"

Harry nods, twisting in his seat to look across the other side of the grounds. Then he sucks in a sharp breath.

There's a flicker of black outside, drifting across the overturned dirt outside. Now it's coming closer, becoming larger in his vision, and then people begin to scream.

"Calm down, everyone!" Harry yells, running forward. "He's just a ghost!"

"'Just a ghost'?" Voldemort repeats, with a sinister smile. "Do not delude yourselves. I am Voldemort"—many people flinch or shudder at the name—"the Dark Lord."

"What are you going to do, float through us?" Ron snaps, though his voice is shaky. "I'm absolutely _petrified_."

Voldemort snarls, but Harry isn't afraid. There is nothing he can do. Without a wand, the Dark Lord is nothing but a floating mass that feels like ice water when walked through.

"You dare speak to the Dark Lord in that way?" Voldemort hisses.

"Yes," Harry says shortly, then sits down at the nearest table—Slytherin—and begins to eat his breakfast.

After that, everyone calms down, much to Voldemort's dismay. Though the Dark Lord is floating right next to them, they realize that he is no more harmful than Professor Binns. If anything, Peeves the Poltergeist poses more of a threat. At least he can throw water balloons at them.


	20. Dangers of Dependency

**Season Six, Round Seven: Dangers of Dependency**

 **A/N: Some people have theorized that while the Dursleys were likely horrible people to begin with, the influence of the Horcrux inside Harry made them even more cruel than they would have been if Harry had never come to live with them. However, if the Dursleys were affected, how were Ron and Hermione safe from any adverse effects? While the Dursleys may have lived with Harry for ten years, they were nowhere near "close emotionally," as you can see in the quote below, with their nephew/cousin — the full quote mentions how it doesn't mean being physically close, like being near the object. The only one who had any kind of emotional bond with Harry long enough to be influenced was Petunia — whose bond was too small to affect her much — and Dudley only developed anything other than dislike for his cousin during book seven. On the other hand, Ron and Hermione, though they only knew Harry for seven years before the piece of soul was destroyed, were close friends with the Horcrux, and they were definitely "fond of" Harry. So I decided to explore that.**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Spider-Man 3**

 **\- According to Wikipedia, during some point in the movie, this alien symbiote thing possessed Peter, causing his "dark side" to be brought out, so I used that for inspiration.**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1367**

 **Beta'd By: TartCat207 and desertredwolf. Thank you!**

" _While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside [a Horcrux] can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object...emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable._ _ **You're in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux**_ _."_

 _~ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

Ron didn't notice it at first.

When he had walked into the compartment, seeing a boy who looked lonely and a little bit sad, Ron hadn't felt the traces of Dark Magic surrounding him.

No, he had only felt a desire to be this boy's friend.

The soul was already touching him when Harry held out to him a Pumpkin Pasty.

• • • • •

Hermione didn't notice it at first.

The morning after Halloween, when she found a seat next to Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table, she hadn't felt anything _off_ about the black-haired boy who had helped save her life.

No, she had only felt a deep sense of gratitude.

The soul was already touching her when Harry asked her what class they had first.

• • • • •

Ron's corruption started slowly.

It began with little things, like snapping a bit more harshly at the twins when they played a prank on him than he normally would have, or picking an extra fight with Malfoy when he could have just walked away.

He had chalked it up to stress over the excitement of the year.

What else should he have thought?

 _It's the bit of soul from a long-dead Dark Lord that's got itself wedged in the forehead of my best friend that's making me act like this._

Very believable.

• • • • •

Hermione's corruption started slowly.

It began with little things, like her wit becoming more sharp and biting than it normally was, or her hate for pureblood bigots being stronger than she thought she could hate.

She had chalked it up to her strong sense of justice.

What else should she have thought?

 _There's a bit of You-Know-Who's soul in my best friend's lightning bolt scar, and the Dark Magic of the whole thing is making me act like this._

Yes, that explained it.

• • • • •

Ron's sister saw the change first.

Ginny had been asking him if she could borrow his textbook, as the page she needed to read had been scribbled on by the person who had owned it before they had bought it from a second-hand shop.

Ron, who had been deeply engrossed in _Flying with the Cannons_ at the time, had snapped at her that he was busy, and that she should bother him some other time.

Ginny had huffed, and stalked out of the room, saying something about how he had been horrible to everyone since he had arrived at Hogwarts.

Ron had ignored her, looking back down at his book and watching Joey Jenkins hit a Bludger toward a Chaser from the Ballycastle Bats.

• • • • •

Hermione's sister saw the change first.

Desdemona had been reading one of her treasured fantasy romance novels, mumbling the words to herself as her eyes travelled across the pages.

Hermione, sitting on the couch across from her, had said irritably that she should learn to read in her head, because listening to some airheaded Mary-Sue profess her undying love to a vampire was highly distracting.

Desdemona had slammed her book shut and growled at her that she hadn't been the same ever since she'd gone off to that school for magic, and that maybe it was a good thing that she'd never received a letter.

Hermione had stood and walked, a scowl on her face, out of the room.

• • • • •

Ron went through three stages during the summers.

For a few days after he got off the Hogwarts Express, he would experience a feeling of lethargy, causing his mother to fuss over him, and the twins to tease him about Ickle Ronnie being unable to handle a simple school year.

Then he'd become refreshed, almost, displaying absurd cheerfulness. He'd help his mother with the chores, and play Quidditch with Ginny, and challenge Fred and George to multiple games of Exploding Snap.

And then Harry would come to the Burrow, and though of course he was excited that his best mate would be staying over, his attitude would shift back to the _darker_ Ron that people had become used to: irritable, moody, sensitive to teasing meant in good fun, and all around unpleasant.

• • • • •

Hermione went through three stages during the summers.

For about a week after leaving Hogwarts, she would barely have the energy to do more than lie down in her room and read a book, much to her parents' concern, and her sister's irritation.

Then she'd feel a sense of rejuvenation, where she would ride her bike around the block with Desdemona, or eagerly spout off all of her knowledge on foreign countries when the Grangers went on their travels.

And then she would go to stay with the Weasleys for a week or two, and Harry would be there, and while of course she was delighted to go over to her friend's house, and actually have a friend whose house she could go over to, her attitude would shift back to the _darker_ Hermione that people had become used to: antisocial, quick to anger, strict, and all around unpleasant.

• • • • •

Ron first noticed that something was wrong with him in fourth year.

That was the year where Harry was chosen as Triwizard Champion. The year where Ron abandoned Harry due to the jealousy that he'd buried deep, deep inside.

By the time he had fully detached himself from Harry's side, a week later, he had been disgusted with himself. Didn't he know his best mate better than that? Harry, with his status as Boy-Who-Lived, would take any opportunity to have a peaceful year for once. And even if he had found a way to enter the Tournament, Harry would have trusted him.

But despite that, the bit of pride in him told him that he had made his decision, and that he had to stick with it for now. He just had to wait for the right moment to apologize.

That moment came after Harry was almost roasted to death by a Hungarian Horntail.

• • • • •

Hermione first noticed that something was wrong with her in third year.

That was the year where Professor McGonagall had provided her with a Time-Turner, in order to be able to attend all of her classes. The year where she had worked herself into a frenzy, pushing away all those who tried to offer her help and kind words. The year where she had become furious at Ron for insinuating that her cat Crookshanks had done what cats did, which was eat rats.

A few weeks into Harry's and Ron's shunning of her, she had become angry with herself. She had said it herself: friendship was more important than books, in her belief. And though she didn't have to like the fact, chances were, Crookshanks probably _had_ eaten Scabbers.

Hermione was thankful when she, Ron, and Harry made up due to Buckbeak the Hippogriff's impending trial.

• • • • •

Ron and Hermione realized what had been happening to them after the Battle of Hogwarts.

It had been but a few hours after Voldemort's corpse had fallen to the ground, and Harry had been explaining to Ron and Hermione what he had seen in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Harry had been a Horcrux.

And for both of them, it had clicked immediately.

Ron realized it because of the incident with Slytherin's Locket. How could he forget?

Hermione realized it because of her impeccable memory. She didn't forget things once she learned them, and especially not things like this.

But they said nothing. They would never burden their best friend with the knowledge, with his extreme guilt complex.

So when Harry asked them what was wrong, they simply smiled and shook their heads.

* * *

 **A/N 2: Desdemona Granger is Hermione's younger sister, as stated. Me and the other members of my Quidditch team developed her after learning that J. K. Rowling originally intended to include her in canon, but didn't get a chance to. So far, Marvelgeek42 has written another fic on her, "this is us, this is us," a Soulmate!AU of Desdemona/Dudley.**


	21. Career Consultation

**Season Six, Round Nine: Career Consultation**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Minerva McGonagall**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1716**

"Come in," said Minerva, and the door opened to reveal one Sirius Black.

Black dropped into the seat in front of her desk, seeming almost bored.

"Now, Mr. Black," said Minerva, picking up his folder, "this meeting is for you to discuss any potential career ideas you may have, and which subjects you will be taking during your sixth and seventh years. Dare I hope you have put ser—genuine thought into what you would like to do after Hogwarts?"

"I know exactly what I want to do," said Black, a perfectly serious expression on his face. "I _have_ got what it takes to train security trolls."

Minerva stared at him for a moment.

"If you will not take this seriously—"

"I always take things Siriusly."

" _Mr. Black_ , I'm warning you—"

"Okay, sorry," said Black, though he didn't sound like it. Suddenly he looked hesitant. "Well… I think I'd like to be an Auror."

"An Auror?" said Minerva, sifting through the pamphlets on her desk and retrieving the small, dark one for the Auror office.

"Yeah," said Black, gaining confidence. "I mean, my family was full of Dark wizards, people who would torture and kill Muggles and Muggleborns without a second thought, people who feel no hesitation is using Unforgivable curses and other Dark magic. I want to do some good in the world, and help get rid of people like them."

"That is an admirable sentiment, Mr. Black," said Minerva approvingly. "Now—" she opened the pamphlet "—you would need top grades to be accepted into the Aurors. They require no less than five N.E.W.T.s, and nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations.' And even if you achieve that, there is the rigorous training regime that the Auror recruits must go through before they can even think about going into the field." Minerva gave Black a stern look. "They will not tolerate any mischief-making, so if you're ser—if you truly want to become an Auror, then you will have to make significant changes to your temperament during classes."

"Yeah, all right," said Black, leaning back in his seat and causing the two front legs to rise off the ground. "It's a great sacrifice, but I'm willing to give up my happiness for the sake of humanity." (Minerva internally rolled her eyes at his dramatics.) "What grades'll I need?"

Minerva flicked her wand, and the chair dropped back to the floor and stuck there. "Defence Against the Dark Arts is the main N.E.W.T.," said Minerva, opening Black's folder and looking at his grades. "You seem to be doing perfectly well in the class. Keep up these grades, and you should be fine. You will also need Transfiguration, as Aurors do much Transfiguring and Untransfiguring during their work. Again, you will be fine, as long as you keep the average of 'Exceeds Expectations' that you have in my class."

Black nodded, uncharacteristically solemn.

"A N.E.W.T. in Charms is also required," Minerva continued, "as they are useful in almost every career. And Potions—knowledge of poisons and antidotes is essential. The fifth N.E.W.T. is for you to decide. As long as you achieve higher than 'Exceeds Expectations' in all of these classes during your O.W.L.s in order to advance to N.E.W.T. level, and maintain these grades for your N.E.W.T. examinations, I don't see why you wouldn't be accepted into the ranks of the Aurors. Now," she said, looking up at her student, "do you have any questions?"

Black shook his head. "No, Professor."

"Very well." Minerva closed the Auror pamphlet and Black's folder. "You may leave."

Black gave her a grin, and said, "See ya, Minnie!"

Then, before Minerva could chastise him, turned and dashed out of the office.

* * *

"Enter," called Minerva.

The door opened, and Remus Lupin stepped into the room, looking much too thin and haggard for a sixteen year-old.

"You may sit," said Minerva, nodding at the chair in front of her desk. Lupin collapsed into it, a look of gratefulness flickering over his features.

"How was the last moon?" asked Minerva gently, noticing that her student still looked ill.

"It wasn't bad," said Lupin, and didn't elaborate.

Minerva didn't push. "What career would you be interested in pursuing after you graduate Hogwarts?" she asked, her voice returning to its normal no-nonsense tone.

"What I want doesn't matter," said Lupin, a bit bitterly. "No one would hire a werewolf. I suppose my best chances are doing odd jobs in the Muggle world."

"Nonsense, Mr. Lupin," said Minerva, looking her student in the eye. "Anyone would be lucky to have you as an employee. Your grades leave nothing to be desired, your work ethic is commendable, and your disposition is kind and patient—that is, of course, when you aren't causing mischief with your friends Messrs. Potter, Black, and Pettigrew."

Lupin ducked his head, almost glowing with the praise. "Thank you." But then he looked up, a wry smile on his face. "But no one will think of that. They'll just be imagining a bloodthirsty monster. I suppose I am, though."

"Again, nonsense," said Minerva firmly. "You are no more dangerous than any other of your classmates during thirty out of thirty-one days in the month. Now, what career would you like to pursue after your graduation?"

Lupin looked down. "I suppose, er, I want to become a professor. For Defence."

"An excellent choice," said Minerva, "though I may be biased."

Lupin cracked a smile, which was her intention. "I mean, I like tutoring, and my friends say that I'm good at it," he mumbled. "So I thought it would be a good idea."

"Well," said Minerva briskly, looking at Lupin's file, "you would need a N.E.W.T. in Defence—though I suspect this is obvious. It is good, however, to keep your options open, so you could possibly aim for N.E.W.T.s in at least two other subjects. Based on your grades, I recommend Charms and Transfiguration."

Lupin nodded. "All right. Is there anything else I need to know? Any studying after I graduate, requirements for teaching, that sort of thing?"

"All you need to do is speak to the Headmaster," said Minerva. "He will interview you, look over your qualifications, and if all is to his liking, then you will have the position." Minerva looked right at Lupin. "I look forward to having you as my colleague."

Lupin flushed. "Thank you, Professor." He stood up, then left the room, smiling slightly. Minerva watched him go, thoughtful.

* * *

Fred and George Weasley barreled into the room, faces flushed, hair windswept.

"Sorry, Professor," said one, the two boys skidding to a stop next to each other. "We forgot."

"No matter," said Minerva. She waited for one to leave, but when they both simply stood there and looked at her, she told them firmly, "You are aware this is supposed to be a one-on-one meeting? Mr. Weasley, your meeting is scheduled to be after your brother's. Mr. Weasley, take a seat."

The two of them crammed themselves into the single wooden chair in front of her desk—it was already small in the first place for a single person, some of the larger students partly falling off, so one twin ended up halfway in the other's lap—and grinned innocently up at her.

Minerva's lips thinned. "Not you, Mr. Weasley. You may leave."

Both of them stood up.

" _Mr. Weasley_ —oh, this is ridiculous," muttered Minerva, when both twins smirked. " _George_ , you may return in an hour for your appointment. _Fred,_ sit down."

Neither of them moved.

"Actually, Professor," said George, "we're going to be working together when we graduate, so we want to do this meeting together."

Fred nodded. "See," he said, "you get a break from doing these meetings, and we get more time to put toward more—" he paused delicately "—ah, _productive_ endeavors. It's a win-win!"

Minerva sighed. "You have put thought into what you would like to do after Hogwarts, then?" she said, deciding not to argue. She Conjured another chair, letting it fall next to the original.

Fred and George dropped into the seats.

"Yep," said Fred.

"We want to open a joke shop," said George.

There was a silence as they waited for her reaction, looking at her with bated breath.

Despite herself, Minerva smiled slightly. "How appropriate."

Wide grins spread over both twins' faces.

"Right?" said Fred. "We mentioned it to Lee, he didn't believe us at first."

"Mum would go bonkers if she knew," said George. Then he suddenly went solemn, and added, with a calculating look directed toward Minerva, "But it's our decision."

"Of course," said Minerva, nodding in agreement. "In the end, each student has the final say in their career choice. So," she said briskly, "do you already have merchandise for this shop?"

"We've got some already finished," said George, Fred nodding along, "and a lot more in the works."

"Good. Technically, you do not need any N.E.W.T.s for your career," said Minerva, "but you will need to attend N.E.W.T. level classes to learn more advanced magic for use in your products. Only you know how your products are made—choose your subjects based on what is needed. All professors accept students into their N.E.W.T. classes as long as they receive an Exceeds Expectations or higher, except for Professor Snape, who requires no less than an Outstanding."

"Greasy git," Fred muttered. George elbowed him, though he wore his own look of dislike.

Minerva debated for a moment, then let it go, just this once. "Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?"

Fred and George shared a glance.

"No," said George.

"But thanks for this," said Fred, grinning. "Maybe we'll give you free samples of our stuff once we get the shop going. What do you think?"

"I will take them," said Minerva, "but only so I can add them to the list of banned items here at Hogwarts. Somehow I get the feeling that once you open, we will never have a peaceful day again."

Fred and George grinned.

"Too right, Professor," said George.

"See ya later!" said Fred, and together, the twins walked out of her office.


	22. Black and Grey

**Season Six, Round Ten: Black and Grey**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- Rated T for mild sexual references and descriptions of pregnancy.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about a pregnancy that causes problems for the relevant parties (for example, parents, family, friends, etc).**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1578**

 **Beta'd By: desertredwolf and falling winter roses. Thank you!**

"Come with me."

And before seventh-year Gryffindor Sirius Black could respond, a Slytherin girl of the same age named Hyacinth Grey grabbed him by the ear and tugged him away.

"What do you want?" demanded Sirius, stumbling after her. Hyacinth walked determinedly down the hall, not replying. They finally came to a stop in a deserted hallway. Hyacinth released Sirius's ear, who rubbed on it with a slight grimace.

"You," Hyacinth hissed furiously, "didn't cast the Contraceptive Charm correctly! Back in November!"

"So what?" said Sirius. "That was ages ago."

" _So,_ you moron," said Hyacinth with a snarl, "I'm pregnant!"

Sirius blinked. "What?" he asked. Then he brushed it off, unwilling to believe it. "Ha, ha, very funny," he said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Sorry, got to go, places to be, people to prank, you know how it is—"

"You know what? If you don't believe me, then fine," snapped Hyacinth. "The whole reason I confronted you was to tell you to _stay away from my child._ I don't want them to get mixed up with your irresponsible lot."

"What?" The way she said it told him that she was completely serious, and now he was indignant. "You can't just stop me from seeing my own kid!"

"I can, and I will," said Hyacinth haughtily, turning away. "Watch me."

"Wait!" yelled Sirius, but Hyacinth was already gone.

* * *

At the end of the day, Sirius went straight to the dormitory and collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to get undressed. How could this be happening? He'd dreamed about being a father, but not yet! And now that he actually had a child, he wasn't being allowed to see it! All day, he'd tried to confront Grey, but somehow she managed to evade him every time, even when he used the Marauder's Map.

"Oi, Sirius," said James, who, along with Remus and Peter, had followed him up to bed, "what're you doing? You haven't even had dinner yet."

"I'm not hungry," Sirius muttered into his pillow.

There were sounds of shuffling, then dips formed in his mattress where his friends sat. Sirius kicked in the direction, but they simply moved over.

"What's wrong?" said Remus.

"Nothing," Sirius bit out. "I'm just not hungry."

"We're your best mates," said Peter. "You know you can tell us if something's wrong."

"How sweet," Sirius said dryly.

James huffed. "You're no fun to be around when you're like this," he said, and Sirius felt the mattress shift near his feet as James stood. "Just spit it out!"

"You really want to know?" snapped Sirius, looking up. "I'm having a kid, at eighteen years old—which in itself is a problem—and its mother hates me! She doesn't even want me to see it! Happy now?"

There was a shocked silence.

"You're joking," said James, eyes wide.

"You asked, I told you," said Sirius, dropping his head back into his pillow. "If you don't believe me, that's your problem—now go away."

"No," said Remus, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We won't go away."

* * *

Hyacinth collapsed in an armchair in the Slytherin Common Room. It only a few hours later, and she was already exhausted. Of all the people, she had to have a kid with _Black_ , and now she had to cook this stupid baby for six more months and _then_ she'd have to actually give birth to the thing and _ugh_.

"You look happy," said Hyacinth's twin brother, Rowan, perching himself on the armrest.

"Very," said Hyacinth sarcastically, crossing her arms.

"When're you going to tell Mother and Father?" said Rowan. "You won't be able to hide it for long, what with your soon-to-be gigantic stomach and mood swings and—"

"Don't remind me," Hyacinth groaned. "Biggest mistake of my life, hooking up with Black. It wasn't even a good sha—"

"I really don't need the image," Rowan cut her off, grimacing slightly. "Back to the subject. You should talk to Madam Pomfrey—we live in a castle full of teenagers, you can't be the only case of teenage pregnancy. She'll have something."

"Yeah, and what happens if I do?" Hyacinth retorted. "I go to her, she'll tell all the other professors, it'll get out somehow, and I'll be the pariah of the school."

"They'll find out either way," said Rowan. "Might as well get the treatment and the ridicule instead of just the ridicule."

Hyacinth sighed. "I hate it when you're right."

"Do you? Funny, I actually like it."

* * *

"Come in," called Madam Pomfrey, and Hyacinth pushed open the door entering the infirmary.

"Now, what seems to be the problem?" said Madam Pomfrey.

Hyacinth looked around warily, and then back at Madam Pomfrey. "Can I talk to you in your office?" she said finally.

Madam Pomfrey's brows furrowed in concern, but she stepped aside and lead Hyacinth into her office, shutting the door behind her and locking it with a charm.

"Yes?" said Madam Pomfrey. When Hyacinth hesitated, she said, "I assure you that I take Healer-patient confidentiality very seriously."

Hyacinth took a deep breath, then, in a rush, said, "I'm pregnant."

"What?" said Madam Pomfrey. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Hyacinth sighed. "I am pregnant," she said again, carefully enunciating each word.

Madam Pomfrey's expression gave nothing away. "I suppose you'd be wanting the standard potions, then?" she said briskly, Summoning a clipboard and beginning to write things down. "I can get them easily enough from St. Mungo's, but you would have to pay for them, as the school doesn't have any budget for medical supplies—we usually brew them here in the castle."

"All right, then," said Hyacinth, keeping her expression neutral.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do?" said Sirius, throwing his arms up in the air. "Grey won't even come _near_ me!"

"Aren't you supposed to be the one who's good with girls?" said Peter, holding his hands up in surrender. "You can come up with a better plan than this."

"I _am_ good with the girls," said Sirius. "Just...not this one, apparently."

It was approximately a week after Grey had given him the news, and Sirius was desperate to talk to her. He couldn't bear the idea of never getting to meet his own son or daughter. Grey couldn't keep him away, right? The baby was his too.

"Yes," said James. "Catching her in a deserted corridor and dropping an enchanted net over her is _really_ going to convince her that you'd be a good father."

"I don't see _you_ with any ideas," Sirius mumbled.

"What you need to do is start being more responsible," said Remus. "Stop playing pranks, pay attention in class, that sort of thing. She'll see how much you're trying to change, and maybe she'll start talking to you."

"Really?" said Sirius. "Ugh, that sounds like how James became boring."

"Excuse me?" said James indignantly. "I am not boring!"

"Lily corrupted you," said Peter. "I hate to say it, but you _have_ been behaving really well lately."'

James huffed. "You won't be saying that when I fill your bed with itching powder."

"Back to the subject," Remus interrupted. He turned to Sirius. "So?"

"Fine, then, I suppose I'll do it," Sirius sighed. "I'd make such a great father—I'm already sacrificing so much for this kid."

* * *

"Oi, Grey!" Sirius yelled across the hallway.

Hyacinth turned instinctively, then scowled when she saw who it was. "What do you want, Black?" she snapped, pulling her robes over her growing stomach.

"We need to talk," he said, running forward. Hyacinth tried to walk away, but lately it was harder for her to move with any speed. Sirius easily caught up to her.

"What's there to talk about?" said Hyacinth. "If you're asking me about what we had for Potions homework, then Slughorn gave us an essay on Polyjuice potion."

"That's not what I'm here for," said Sirius irritatedly. "I'm— Wait, did you just help me?"

"What? No!" Hyacinth denied. "What do you want, Black?"

"I want to see my kid," said Sirius, returning to the topic.

"Well, you see, there's a slight problem with that," said Hyacinth. "The baby isn't actually born yet."

Sirius gritted his teeth. " _After_ it's born," he said, forcing himself to stay calm and _not_ hex the mother of his child.

"Oh, that's what you meant," said Hyacinth, wearing a perfectly innocent expression. "There's a problem with that, too. Thing is, I don't really trust you with my baby."

" _Why?_ " said Sirius. "I haven't been playing pranks and I've paid attention in class and actually been responsible! What else do you want me to do?"

"Yeah, for now," said Hyacinth. "What's stopping you from going back to your old ways after you've gotten a glimpse of the kid? I don't want my baby to have a father like that."

"That's not—I wouldn't!" exclaimed Sirius. "I'll be a good father!"

He'd promised it to himself, thinking about his own, who had immediately abandoned him after he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor, and who'd spent much of his time either at pureblood functions or drinking. After being raised by someone like that, he'd never give anyone else the same experience.

"How am I supposed to know if you will?" said Hyacinth. "'I promise'? Well, you could easily be lying. Now, I have things to attend to."

Hyacinth turned to leave.

"Come on!" said Sirius, catching her sleeve. "Please!"

Hyacinth tugged her arm out of his grip and walked away. Sirius couldn't do anything but watch her go.


	23. The Day After

**Season Six, Round Twelve: The Day After**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about Ron's relationship with Hermione**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1011**

Ron opened his eyes, blinking in the soft sunlight. His heart was pounding for some reason, and there was a faint smile on his face.

Then he remembered.

Last night, he and Harry had rescued Hermione Granger from a mountain troll in the girls' bathroom, and he, Ron Weasley, had actually managed to cast a Wingardium Leviosa and smash the troll's head with its own club! Now there was only one thing left to resolve: their relationship with Hermione.

Would they become friends after this? Or would they just go back to normal, never speaking unless it was for Hermione to tell them off or Ron to comment on her bossiness?

A tiny part of him became sad at the thought, and the rest of him was confused about it. Why did he care, anyway? It wasn't like he'd become particularly attached to her, right?

These were the thoughts that were going through Ron's head as he and Harry dressed for the day. When they got down to the Common Room, Hermione was there, rooting around for something in her book bag. Her hair, which normally Ron would describe as ugly and frizzy, looked pretty in the sun that was streaming in from the tower's window.

Pretty decent, he amended hastily, as soon as the thought registered. Not pretty pretty.

Hermione seemed to have found what she was looking for. Without a backward glance, she made to exit the Common Room, but Harry called out to her.

"Wait!"

Hermione turned, and bit her lip when she saw who had spoken. "Yes?" she said politely, albeit stiffly.

"We were wondering if you wanted to sit with us at breakfast," said Ron, before Harry could say a word, and he was surprised by his own daring.

"Are you sure?" she said, biting her lip. "You know you don't owe me anything —"

"I know," said Harry. "I just, er, thought it would be nice. I mean," he added hurriedly, "I don't mean to pressure you or anything, but —"

Hermione's face broke into a truly genuine smile. "I'd like that."

Together the three of them went down to the Great Hall. When people saw them in the hall, many would do a double-take and begin to whisper to their friends. At this, Harry would flatten his bangs — which by now Ron recognized as one of Harry's nervous tics — and Hermione would stare straight ahead, ignoring them pointedly.

When they sat down at the Gryffindor table, the four silently began to pile food on their plates. Hermione, Ron noted, didn't take anything with chocolate or sugar.

"What do we have first?" Ron began through a mouthful of sausage, in an attempt to break the silence. He was unused to this type of awkwardness surrounding them; with Harry, there had been simple friendship, and before that, there was never a quiet moment.

Hermione carefully swallowed her food. "Potions," responded Hermione, wrinkling her nose slightly.

When they went to their first class, Snape was already in a foul mood. He set them working on a potion to remove stench, and, remembering the smell of the troll last night, Ron, Harry, and — surprisingly — Hermione shared grins.

"What is so amusing, Mr. Potter?" Snape said sharply, coming up from behind him. "Pay attention. Ten point from Gryffindor for talking and —"

He looked down, and looked disgruntled to see a perfect potion bubbling away. Hermione was a great help, pointing out exactly where they were going wrong and how to fix it.

"For talking," Snape repeated sourly.

Next was Herbology, and Sprout seemed pleasantly surprised to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione sharing a table. Today's lesson was on plants with long, sticky tendrils, that were used in the olden days to guard houses in the place of a Devil's Snare.

"Careful!" Sprout said loudly, as she walked around the room. "You must have excellent aim to throw the pods into the center of the plant without getting in range of its tendrils!"

"Well, looks like we're doomed," said Ron, bouncing the small, round pod of magical fertilizer between his hands. "I can't aim to save my life."

"Try 'Wingardium Leviosa,'" said Hermione. She smiled slightly. "You did it well last night, all you have to do is do what you did again."

Ron took a deep breath. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " he said, then, beaming when the pod rose into the air, directed it into the center of the plant with his wand.

"Excellent work!" said Sprout, clapping her hands. "Ten points to Gryffindor for using your problem-solving skills."

Ron grinned at Harry and Hermione. That was the first time he'd earned Gryffindor points in ages.

After a quick break for lunch, the trio went down for Transfiguration. McGonagall — if she had been the sort of woman to smile — did what Ron could have sworn was just that when Hermione took a seat next to Ron. Then McGonagall began the lesson, and soon they were instructed to turn snails into marbles. Hermione got it on the first go, but Ron and Harry were having no such luck.

"How did you get it so quickly?" said Harry, poking his snail with his wand in despair.

"Try making it more of a jab," suggested Hermione. "And emphasize the last syllable."

Harry did so, and smiled at Hermione when the snail went harder and more round. "Brilliant, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled slightly. "Thanks," she said.

Finally, there was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Quirrell was annoying as usual, stuttering over everything. His turban smelled particularly horrible today, and Ron was ready to put much more stock in the twins' theory that he was hiding garlic in it.

"I bet Quirrell's hiding garlic in his turban," Ron whispered to Hermione. "What d'you reckon?"

"I disagree," she said primly. She grinned. "I think he stole an ancient artifact from his travels, and it's something from a pyramid or cave or something that smells horrible. Incense, maybe."

Ron grinned back. This would be the start of a long and beautiful friendship.


	24. The Beginning of the End

**Season 7, Round 1: The Beginning of the End**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Yeah, I'm not dead. Sorry for those looking for updates on my other stuff. I'll get around to it?**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about someone making the best of a bad situation.**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1567**

 **Beta'd By: falling winter roses, ginnys01, SilvermistRuhi**

"Shi— _oot_ , that should have worked. Let me just…"

Ginny walked into the Room of Requirement to see Susan Bones pointing a wand at the arm of a first-year girl, both of whose arms were twisted at a sickening angle. Susan gritted her teeth and flipped through a book that was open at her side.

"What happened?" asked Ginny. She took a few steps closer, enough to see that the first year was grimacing in pain.

"The Carrows," the girl managed. "Got detention. They broke my arms."

"None of these healing spells are working," said Susan. "It must be really Dark magic, or something You-Know-Who came up with himself, because even the strongest spells the Room's library can offer aren't doing a thing."

"Why isn't she at the hospital wing?" said Ginny. "Madam Pomfrey could —"

"But Madam Pomfrey is being watched by the Carrows," Susan cut her off. "After we got caught getting help from her last time, she's under a much more strict watch. I just checked in to see if we could sneak Alice in, and the Carrows' followers already gave me suspicious looks. We can't risk it. They won't even let me take healing potions."

Ginny let out a huff. "Is there anything else we can do?"

"I'm not sure. Hey," Susan called suddenly, to the rest of the DA scattered throughout the Room, "does anyone know any ways to heal broken bones without a spell?"

"A potion?" someone yelled back. "But the only one I can think of would take a few weeks to brew!"

"It's easy," said Anthony Goldstein. "Muggles use casts to hold the bones in their proper place while they heal naturally."

"But those are big and bulky," Hannah Abbott pointed out. "Alice'll have to stay hidden until we can get it off."

"Why don't we try it first," Susan said decisively. "One of you, come here, I have no idea what a cast looks like so I can't conjure one."

Anthony came closer to Alice, who was breathing hard through her teeth.

"My mum is a doctor, so she has a lot of medical books," Anthony said. "I think I can make a good cast."

"'I think'?" Alice echoed, even despite her shaky breaths. "That's — ah — reassuring."

"Nice to see your snark isn't being affected at all," Ginny said. She wasn't exactly trusting in Muggle technology, but if Anthony thought it would work…

"Okay. But first, let me —"

A new shelf of books appeared, stuffed to bursting with books many inches thick. Ginny was almost intimidated as Anthony went up to the shelf and picked out a few books; she could make out long and complicated titles stamped across the covers in tiny letters.

"Er," Susan said, eyeing Anthony as he plopped down in a chair and opened a book, "I'll cast a numbing charm."

Alice gave Susan a grateful look as she cast a spell to at least make the pain not as bad — as soon as Susan finished the incantation Alice's shoulders relaxed. Ginny knew that the charm wasn't perfect, but it'd do until Anthony was done doing…whatever he was doing.

"Okay, right," said Anthony soon after, standing up, "I know what to do now."

Anthony came back up to Alice, who looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear. He closed his eyes briefly, then pointed his wand at Alice's arm. Then he recited some incantation, and a whitish liquid-y material circled around and enclosed the limb, hardening around it. He repeated the process with the other arm. It looked odd, to say the least. Ginny didn't see how it helped anything.

"So that's it?" said Alice, a few moments later. She looked down at her arms; when she tried to lift them they fell back to the table in front of her with a dull _thump_. "This is…going to heal my arm?"

"Not really," said Anthony. "Your body is going to heal itself — the cast is going to speed the process along, and make sure the whole thing is lined up right."

"Uh, all right," said Alice. "If you say so."

"Right, then," said Anthony, standing up. "I have to get back to my common room, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Stay safe," said Ginny, as Anthony left. Soon Susan was gone too, and most of the rest of the DA, leaving just Ginny and Alice staring at the lumps of clay(?) on Alice's arm.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Alice said finally. "If one of the Carrows or the students on their side sees me walking around with a Muggle contraption on my arms…"

"Stay here," said Ginny quickly. "I know the Room can't conjure food, but it can make bedrooms and bathrooms, right? We can sneak food in here until you're healed enough."

"I guess," said Alice slowly. "But I feel bad about being such a —"

"Don't even go there," said Ginny. She remembered all-too-well Harry saying many similar things. Wouldn't people ever learn that they _aren't_ a burden? "We'll make this work, I promise. Keeping our members safe is the main priority."

Neville walked into the Room, pointing his wand at the various scratches on his face and sealing them up. Ginny looked up at him and waved him over.

"Neville, do you think we can set the Room up so that people can stay here for multiple nights?" said Ginny. "It can't be that hard, right?"

"We'd have to make a passage to the kitchens," Neville said slowly. "Unless…"

Suddenly a large painting, the size of a doorway, appeared at one wall of the Room. It was a portrait of a young girl on a path, who smiled serenely and swung her dress.

"Uh," said Ginny finally. "Who are you?"

The girl said nothing, but beckoned them toward her, then turned around and went down the path in her painting. Ginny turned to give Neville a bewildered look, but that was when the painting swung away from the wall to reveal a dark passageway.

"Might as well go," said Neville, but it turned up into a question. He lit his wand, Ginny doing the same. Alice reached for her wand too.

"No, there might be something dangerous at the end," said Ginny firmly. "We can't risk you getting even more hurt."

"I'm fine," Alice insisted, getting to her feet and clutching her wand loosely in one hand. "I can handle it. These things on my arms don't mean I can't cast spells."

"Sorry, but they do," said Neville. "You can't do the wand movements properly when your arm movements are blocked. How about," he suggested, "you stay here, so if anything goes wrong, you can tell everyone where we went and get help."

Alice looked around, and sighed. "Fine," she snapped. "But I'm going on missions with you as soon as these lumps are gone."

With that, Ginny and Neville turned back to the passage, and cautiously made their way through. To Ginny, the walk felt like forever, but in all honesty it had probably only been a few minutes before they came to a dead end.

"So that's it?" huffed Ginny. "Nothing?"

"No, look," said Neville, holding his wand closer to the "wall". "It's the back of a canvas — this must be the exit. We just have to —"

Ginny understood. Holding her wand out in front of her, ready to fight, she pushed the canvas, which swung open into —

The Hog's Head pub?

And then both of them shrieked when twin jets of light flew at them, and only were able to dodge them as a result of rigorous training in the Room. Speaking of the Room, why the _hell_ did it bring them to a place they'd get attacked?

"Back, back!" Ginny yelled, but suddenly the spells stopped at her voice. She looked around in bewilderment for the source of the barrage.

"Weasley?" a voice said. It was deep and gruff and somewhat familiar. "That you?"

"Who's asking?" Ginny demanded.

"No," Neville said, a lot quieter, "we shouldn't risk —"

"Longbottom too?" The owner of the voice was still nowhere to be seen, but it sounded like it was coming from everywhere. "You're not on You-Know-Who's side, are you?"

"Of course not!" said Ginny indignantly. "Never!"

"All right," the voice said. "I might regret this, but —"

There was a loud _crack_ from upstairs, and the bartender Apparated into the center of the room. He looked…familiar…

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "I'm Aberforth. What do you want?"

Ginny stared at him. It was Neville who spoke up.

"I — er — oh!" he said. "We need food for our…uh, headquarters, and we can't get to the kitchens. Do you think you could give us some? We could come in through this passage and pick things up."

"Do I look like I have a death wish?" Aberforth snapped. "'Cause helping you definitely is one."

"You can just leave food on the counter or something," said Neville. "We can sneak in, grab it, and no one needs to know. You can say that someone stole it, if anyone notices. That won't make you look guilty, right?"

Aberforth seemed to think it over. "All right, fine. I'll help you. Give me a moment."

As he stalked into the kitchen, Ginny thought that maybe they _could_ make this resistance work.


	25. That's the Day I Fell in Love with You

**Season Seven, Round Two: That's the Day I Fell in Love with You**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Title comes from "The Bro Duet", which you should totally listen to, it's the perfect song for 99% of gay ships. Anyway...**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Write about a character(s) who thrives in luxury and decadence having to live a minimalist life OR** **write about a high-strung character(s) learning to relax and just be** **.**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 2204**

 **Beta'd By: falling winter roses, GrangerBlackPotter, and ginnys01. Special thanks to ginnys01 for betaing extensively and giving tons of help, this fic is ten times better thanks to her!**

"Come on, it's our last week at Hogwarts, might as well enjoy it!"

"I can't, I need to study for N.E.W.T.s," said Remus, without looking up from his textbook.

It was a warm, bright day in the June of 1978, and Sirius was trying to get his friend to go outside and get some actual sunshine for once, instead of getting it all filtered through heavy library curtains. Sirius didn't get why Remus took this stuff so seriously—sure, exams were important (not), but why would you _choose_ to stay inside when you could be swimming in the Black Lake and tickling the Giant Squid?

"You can study later," said Sirius, tugging at the sleeve of Remus's robe. "It's beautiful outside! We should relax!"

"What," said Remus flatly, "almost as beautiful as you?"

Sirius wasn't blushing at all. Not even a little bit. "Exactly."

"That—" Remus yanked his sleeve out of Sirius's grip "—that was sarcasm."

"Whatever you say, Moony. I know that you find me quite dashing."

"Leave me alone, I need to memorize the equations behind Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

"No, Moony, please! James and Lily are being gross and Peter is on that hot date with that Hufflepuff. I'm _lonely._ "

"Oh, I'm sorry." Remus looked up at him. "How about I—"

He flicked his wand, and his textbook flew up in front of his face, blocking Sirius's view.

"—stay here and keep studying?"

Sirius huffed, standing on his toes to look over the floating book and see Remus's irritated expression.

"How about you come out just for an hour?" said Sirius. "Then you can stay here and suffocate to death in this dust all you like."

"It's not that dusty," was Remus's immediate response. "Madam Pince does her job." He lowered his voice, glancing around. "I don't like her, but she does her job."

"Of all the things you get out of that sentence, you get the bit about dust?"

"Sirius, I have to study," Remus insisted. "You don't know what it's like, you're a Black—"

Sirius opened his mouth.

"—yes, I know, they disowned you, but still— _and_ you're a pureblood. You don't need to get good grades on these, no one would dare turn down a job application from you. And that's even if you _need_ a job; you're rich—you said that your Uncle Alphard gave you money—and even if he didn't, James has lots of money."

"That's—"

"But I have to get perfect grades for people to even _consider_ me for a job. I'm a w—" Remus looked around furtively "—I have my 'furry little problem,' and no one would even _look_ at me, never mind actually consider me for a job if they knew that _and_ I had awful marks. I need all Os and recommendation letters from all the teachers, best case scenario, to get anywhere in life."

Sirius stared at him helplessly. Remus staying inside all day couldn't be healthy—and not even the fun kind of unhealthy, like chugging Firewhiskey or smoking or playing pranks on McGonagall. But Remus made good arguments, and Sirius, well, wasn't good at debating.

"How about you bring your books outside?" Sirius said, perking up as the thought hit him. "That way you can study, _and_ you can get some sunshine!"

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"All right," he said, and Sirius cheered internally at the victory. "Let me just—"

Remus swished his wand, and all of his books and rolls of parchment went flying into a bookbag at Remus's feet. It was Remus's enchanted one, charmed to be bigger on the inside—for some reason Remus laughed when Sirius described it like that to him—but not endless. Because endless was illegal and Remus was boring and uptight about not breaking more laws than he needed to. And, it was featherlight!

Remus picked up the bag.

"But if I'm going out, you're carrying this," he said, shoving it at Sirius. "You said I have to relax, and I can't relax when I'm carrying a bunch of textbooks."

"Yeah, fine, alright," said Sirius, taking the bag. Again, it was charmed to be featherlight. Sure, Remus was being lazy and could easily carry it on his own, but Sirius could bring the bag if that meant Remus would come out to the grounds with him.

Except he stumbled when he grabbed the strap, and he was forced to clutch it to his chest with both hands. Remus smirked as Sirius got the bag steady.

"What the hell?" demanded Sirius. "Why is it so heavy?"

"Karma," said Remus simply, and walked out of the library. Sirius staggered along behind him.

* * *

Remus lay on the grass under the birch tree by the lake, books and papers spread out around him. The younger years running around gave him a wide berth, but Remus didn't seem to mind.

"You know," he said to Sirius, who was tossing a quaffle stolen from the broomshed up and down next to him, "I think you were right. I needed this."

"Told you," said Sirius. A thought came to him, and he grinned, chucking the quaffle into a gaggle of third-years. A brown-haired girl caught it and shot him a thumbs-up, then she and her classmates organized themselves into teams and spread out through the grounds. "You know what? We can do better."

He pulled Remus to his feet.

"What are you doing?" he said, as Sirius tugged him closer to the lake. Suddenly realization dawned in his expression. "Oh no, don't you dare—"

Remus struggled, but didn't break free of Sirius's grip as he pulled them onto the pier that students liked to dive off of into the deeper part of the lake. "Sirius, you fu—"

"Language, Moony, there are children!"

And with that, Sirius pushed him into the lake, jumping in after him.

He opened his eyes underwater, and saw Remus staring back at him. Remus looked almost ethereal, with his robes billowing around him and his hair floating out like a halo and the almost eerie green light coming down through the lake water. Sirius wanted to swim closer, maybe k—

Okay, enough gay thoughts!

Both of them shot to the surface, gasping for breath. Remus's hair was flat against his head, heavy with water, and Sirius brushed his own hair away from his face, where it stuck to his back somewhat uncomfortably.

"I hate you," Remus got out, despite his half-grin. "I absolutely despise you, Sirius Black."

"Aw, I lo—"

Sirius froze, and began to sink a bit, before remembering that oh yeah, he had to tread water, that was a thing that stopped you from drowning.

"Sorry?" said Remus, noticing his hesitation.

"I was saying," said Sirius, shaking his head to clear it, "I love you too, Moony."

Remus rolled his eyes, and was it just Sirius, or was his face tinged red?

"I'm going back inside," Remus declared, beginning to swim back toward the shore. "I'm going to change, and then I'm going to study. I've had enough sunshine for today, thank you very much."

"No, Moony, come on," said Sirius, following behind. "I'll put a drying charm! Stay!"

"Nope, I'm done," said Remus. They got to shore, and Remus stumbled to his feet before emerging from the water and shaking his hair. (He looked unfairly hot, and not just because of the weather.) "Bye!"

"Okay, okay, how about this?" said Sirius. He dried them off with a charm—let it be said that Sirius Black wasn't completely incompetent—and grabbed Remus's arm. "You stay outside. I'll help you study."

Just the thought made him want to groan, but it was studying with Remus! It wouldn't be one hundred percent boring!

"You, help me study," Remus repeated, smirking. It was the kind of smirk he wore when he was trying not to laugh—Sirius almost wanted to be offended. "Right."

"No, seriously."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

"Wha—oh. I wasn't making a pun!"

"Yeah, and my name is Bambina Bergancia and I'm the lead kazooist for the Weird Sisters."

Sirius opened his mouth indignantly, but Remus continued.

"All right, fine, I'll stay, but you…don't dump me in the lake again. I won't take up your offer on helping me study 'cause you'll just be a distraction, but I'll stay."

"Done!"

They went back to the tree by the lake, where Remus's books and notes were—miraculously—still spread out. Remus took a textbook, then scooted back to lean against the trunk of the birch tree and began to read. Sirius fidgeted, and looked around, where the group of third-years seemed to be playing some Muggle sport with the quaffle; it was like Quidditch, but on the ground, and without bludgers and a snitch. When one of the players noticed him looking—it was the same girl from earlier, he realized—she mouthed something at him that looked suspiciously like "Just go ahead and shag him already!"

Sirius looked away quickly, blushing deep, as one of the girl's teammates yelled at her to focus on the game. He turned his gaze back to Remus; Remus's tongue poked out in concentration as he read, and it was, objectively, the most adorable thing ever. And his hair caught the sunlight at this angle, making it all shiny and gold, and Sirius was very highly extremely gay.

"Sirius?" Remus said, snapping Sirius out of his reverie. Sirius's face flushed even redder, and he hoped that Remus hadn't noticed him staring. "Could you pass me that ream of notes over there?"

"What the hell is a ream?"

"A sheaf. A stack. Just, those notes, over there."

"Oh, right."

Sirius handed Remus the notes. He jolted back slightly when their fingers brushed, which was stupid, because they were best friends and their hands touched all the time. Never mind that his feelings had veered sharply away from "best friends" at least two years ago, maybe more.

They were silent for a few more minutes, until Remus tossed his textbook to the grass, where it fell with a surprisingly loud _thump._ Remus buried his face in his hands.

"I can't focus!" he moaned. "I'm reading this page over and over again and taking in none of it!"

"See, Moony, this is why you need to relax," said Sirius. He swept his wand over the textbooks and notes, gathering them into a stack and directing it into the book bag. "How about we, uh, just take a walk?"

"Wouldn't that be too 'boring' for you?" said Remus, not looking up.

"No!" said Sirius, pushing at Remus's shoulder. "Come on, just one lap around the castle. Maybe that'll clear your head a bit."

Remus sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine. Might as well." He took the hand Sirius extended to him, pulling himself to his feet. "Are we just going to le—"

"Your books won't be stolen," said Sirius. "What would anyone want with a textbook? And anyways, I can always just buy you a replacement."

"Sirius—"

"Come on, Moony, just relax. If you come with me I'll give you my stash of chocolate bars that Uncle Alphard sent me from that trip to Belgium he took."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!"

* * *

Sirius and Remus walked by the border of the Forbidden Forest, talking and laughing. Remus seemed to be finally loosening up.

"Stop it, Sirius, that pun was awful," Remus gasped through his choked laughs. "Please, I can't breathe."

"No, no, next one!" Sirius wracked his brains, desperate to keep Remus laughing. He loved the sound. It was absolutely adorable—he could probably listen to it forever. "Uh, what do you say to water after it's boiled? You will be _mist._ Get it? Ooh, or uh, how do you organize a galactic party? You _planet!_ "

"That was _terrible!_ " Remus managed to get out. He covered his mouth with his hands; Sirius wish he'd remove them, because it muffled Remus's voice.

So before Sirius knew what his hands were doing, he pulled Remus's hands away, and didn't let go. Remus gave him a strange look, tinged with…something else. Was he blushing?

"What are you doing?" Remus whispered.

Sirius dropped Remus's hands like he'd been burned.

"Sorry," he scrambled to say. "I—don't know what—"

"No," Remus said over him, "it's fine, you're—"

They both went silent. Then they spoke up again at the exact same time.

"You can go ahead—"

"Uh, say what you—"

They both shut up again.

"I, um," said Remus finally. "I think there's something I should tell you."

"Me too," Sirius said, quiet.

"You can go first," said Remus.

Sirius shook his head. "No, you can go."

"At the same time?"

"Okay. Um, on three?"

"Yeah. Three, two, one…"

Remus and Sirius both spoke.

"I've liked you since fourth year."

"I've had a crush on you since we were sixteen."

"What?"

"What?"

They blinked at each other incredulously.

"Are you serious?" said Remus.

Sirius grinned. "I'm always Sirius."

Remus turned away, even despite his face breaking into a wide smile. "Nope, my crush is gone. That was terrible. I thought you were done with Sirius/serious puns."

"Never," Sirius declared.

There was a pause.

"So," said Sirius, "are we going to, like…"

Remus rolled his eyes, then stepped forward to press a soft kiss against Sirius's lips.


	26. for the greater good

**Season Seven, Round Three: for the greater good**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. I'm not sure how compliant this is with Fantastic Beasts since I haven't really watched it to pick up on all the details, but otherwise this is canon-compliant.**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Tinikling Dance of the Philippines; write about a character who shows grace to someone who doesn't deserve it**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1076**

* * *

Gellert smirks up at him, from where he kneels on the broken pavement of the street, arms tied behind his back with ropes.

"Well?" he says, the blood dripping from his broken nose to the ground. "Are you going to kill me?"

With a shaking hand, Albus levels his wand at Gellert's face.

* * *

 _Albus was taking a walk through Godric's Hollow to clear his head from the argument with his brother a few minutes ago when he first saw him._

 _The boy took confident steps through the street, looking down at a sheet of parchment in his hand, glancing up around him every few seconds, seemingly searching for something. He had blond hair and striking blue eyes and Albus couldn't seem to look away._

 _The boy met Albus's gaze, and that was when Albus noticed the necklace he wore. It was a triangle with a circle inside, with a line going through the center vertically._

 _The sign of the Deathly Hallows._

 _Albus took a few steps closer to the boy, and called, "What are you doing?"_

 _The boy looked up at him. "Who wants to know?"_

" _Are you here for Ignotius Peverell's grave?" said Albus. "The owner of the Invisibility Cloak of the Deathly Hallows?"_

 _Many tourists came to his hometown for that very purpose. They'd go out to the graveyard and look at Ignotius's gravestone, poke around for a while, and eventually leave with a disappointed look. There wasn't anything there; Albus had checked, multiple times._

" _Not particularly," said the boy. "The Cloak is only important to complete the set."_

 _Albus stared at him. The tale had said that the Invisibility Cloak was the smartest choice of Hallows. And this boy_ didn't want _the cloak?_

" _I'd rather have the Elder Wand," the boy continued. "What about you?"_

 _He continued walking. Then he turned back to Albus._

" _Well? Are you coming?"_

 _Albus went._

* * *

The seconds stretch on. Gellert says, "I should have known you couldn't do it. You were too cowardly to finish what we'd started—how could you kill me if you couldn't even kill the Muggles?"

"I came to my senses," Albus says.

"You went soft," says Gellert. "You lost everything about you that made you my partner."

Albus's wand is still pointed at Gellert's face. Gellert seems unconcerned with that fact.

"I thought you were different," Gellert says.

* * *

 _Albus and Gellert pored over books in the highest room of the Dumbledore household, sprawled across Albus's floor. Stacks of notes were scattered around them as the sun shone through the window._

" _Look," Gellert said suddenly, pointing at a sentence on a page of the book he was reading, "do you think—"_

" _ALBUS!"_

 _Albus looked up at the shout. It was an irritated yell from his younger brother, Aberforth. Albus huffed._

" _YOU NEED TO HELP ME WITH ARIANA—"_

" _I'm_ busy _!" Albus called back, glancing at Gellert. His sharp blue eyes stared at the door, glaring daggers. The reassurance that Gellert felt the same only heightened his annoyance towards Alberforth._

" _IS IT GELLERT?" Aberforth yelled up, frustration lacing his tone. "IT'S ALWAYS GELLERT THIS, HALLOWS THAT, YOU KNOW YOU STILL HAVE A FA—"_

 _Albus waved his wand, and Aberforth's voice abruptly cut out._

" _Do you really talk about me that much?" said Gellert, sounding flattered. Albus gave him a suddenly shy grin._

" _Well," Albus said, "I think you're…interesting."_

" _Interesting. Huh."_

* * *

"I'm different than you," says Albus. "I know that wizards don't deserve to rule over Muggles."

Gellert laughs. "We're clearly superior!" he says. "Our magic—"

"Our magic doesn't make us any better than them."

"Look how they treat each other! Creating contraptions of all kinds to murder each other, to murder _us?_ People seem to have forgotten about the witch trials. They hung us for helping them. Now we strike back."

"You act like we're better! You act like we have no Cruciatus or Killing or Imperius Curses!"

"So go ahead," says Gellert. "If you think they're so awful, use them on me. I deserve them, do I not?"

"I—"

Albus opens his mouth, and pushes the wand closer to Gellert's face. No sound escapes him.

"I never said that," he says finally.

"You didn't need to," Gellert says. "I know you think so."

Albus isn't sure how right Gellert is.

* * *

 _The two of them walked along the rocky shoreline, listening to the waves crashing against the cliffs._

" _I want to start a movement," said Gellert. "Wizards deserve more than to be hidden."_

 _Albus looked at him. "The Muggles will riot. They'll fight us. People fight what they fear."_

" _Then we'll fight back," said Gellert, and there was a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. It was a little bit pretty. "Wizards are so much more powerful than Muggles, we could defeat them!"_

" _And then what?" said Albus. "What would happen after we 'defeat' the Muggles? Would they just—"_

" _We could do whatever we wanted," Gellert said. "We could—we could make them work for us, make them like house-elves. I wish it didn't have to be this way," he added, in a kinder tone, "but it'll all be for the greater good. Wizards deserve our rights back, and for that to happen, Muggles need to lose some."_

 _Albus wasn't sure how to feel about this. Muggles surely didn't deserve that kind of treatment. But the way Gellert spoke so passionately about it…_

" _For the greater good," he repeated._

* * *

"You've stalled for long enough," Gellert continues. "Might as well get it over with, you know?"

Albus tightens his fingers around his wand. He opens his mouth to say the curse. He gets in position to do the movement.

Gellert has done so many terrible things. He's hurt so many people. He's killed so many people. He's done despicable, unnameable acts that go against most, if not all, of Albus's morals, and yet he hesitates to strike the killing blow and rid the world of the cause of all these monstrosities. He stares into the challenging, smug gaze of the boy he once loved (still loves?).

And drops his arm by his side. Gellert smirks.

" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Albus says, and when his patronus appears, he tells the trusty phoenix, "Tell the Aurors that I have Gel—Grindelwald in custody and that they should pick him up and send him to Nurmengard."

"Smart," says Gellert. "And fitting, too. Sending me to my own prison?"

Albus can't bear to look at him. He turns away as the phoenix flies into the dusk.


	27. i wish that i could turn back time

**Season Seven, Round Four: i wish that i could turn back time**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League.**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: "Well, as long as we're digging up the past, we may as well dig up your mother."**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1548**

 **Beta'd By: SilvermistRuhi. Thank you so much!**

* * *

Albus looked at the Time-Turner in Scorpius's hands.

"You know," he said slowly, "I just had an idea."

"Right now?" said Scorpius. "Don't we have to, like, get going soon? To save Cedric?"

"Yeah, but." Albus bit his lip. "I figured, well, as long as we're digging up the past, we may as well dig up your mother."

"Excuse me," said Scorpius, staring at Albus, "but _what._ The heck."

"I mean," Albus rushed to explain, "while we have this Time-Turner, why don't we go back and save your mom?"

"I—" Scorpius's expression flickered with something Albus couldn't read. "We got it to save Cedric," he said weakly. "And Delphi—"

"It's a Time-Turner, right?" said Albus. "We can save one person, jump back to now as soon as we finish, then save the next one! Win-win, am I right?"

"I don't know…"

"What's to lose?" said Albus. "We get your mom back, we get Cedric, everyone is happy!"

Scorpius looked at the Time-Turner. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "But how do we—"

"Albus?" Ron called. "Albus!"

"We've got to go," said Albus. "Who are we saving first?"

"I, I, um—"

"There!" yelled Ron. "I knew I saw them!"

Albus and Scorpius exchanged wide-eyed glances. Then Scorpius slipped the Time-Turner into his pocket as Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Draco emerged from the trees into the clearing that Albus and Scorpius stood in.

"Hello, Dad," Albus said, trying to sound casual. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," said Harry coolly. "You could say that."

* * *

Long story short: Albus was officially banned from seeing Scorpius ever again, due to some stupid thing about a "black cloud". He was supposed to hang out in the Gryffindor common room instead of the Slytherin one, attend whichever classes _weren't_ with the Slytherins, and apparently, he was going to be watched to make sure he did all that.

Except, there was absolutely no way he was going to do all that. After sending Delphi a quick owl to tell her they were caught and that they weren't able to jump back in time just yet (he crossed his fingers she would understand), Albus snuck out of the Gryffindor common room to go and find Scorpius.

Scorpius liked to hang out in the library. That was as a good place to start as any.

So Albus pulled the Invisibility Cloak he'd stolen from James around himself, lighting his wand and making his way to the library. His suspicion had been correct; not even two steps into the library, and he saw Scorpius there, poring over books and newspapers spread out around him.

"Scorpius?" said Albus, and Scorpius jumped, looking around.

"Albus?" Scorpius said. "Is that you?"

"Wha—oh." Albus took the Cloak off, wrapping it around his arm, and causing the limb to disappear and his hand to look like it was floating. "Yeah. What are you doing?"

"Research," said Scorpius. "Both on Cedric and my mom's curse. We need to _guarantee_ that Cedric won't win, so maybe we could get him eliminated somehow? I was thinking for cheating but apparently cheating is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, so we need another way. And I was also trying to find out how and why and when Mom's relative got blood-cursed so we can go back and prevent it from ever happening. There isn't anything in any books or newspapers or anything though, I'm thinking of sneaking home and grabbing a book on Greengrass history?"

"Wow, Scorp," said Albus. "Sneaking home? You're supposed to be the sensible one."

Scorpius gave him a look.

"Okay, sorry," said Albus, putting his hands up. "So when are we leaving?"

"Why delay, we could go—"

"Albus? Albus Potter?" said Professor McGonagall, her voice far-off. "Scorpius Malfoy? Are you in there together? Because I advise you not to be."

"Come on, let's go," said Scorpius. He flicked his wand, and all his research gathered itself into a bag. "Gimme your cloak, we can both fit under it, right?"

The two of them ducked under the Cloak just in time for Professor McGonagall to announce, "I am about to enter," and walk into the library. Scorpius and Albus watched with bated breath as she looked around and said, "Well, where have they—I never wanted this thing and now it's playing tricks on me."

She paused.

"Unless. Unless…the Cloak." She looked straight at where Albus and Scorpius were standing, wide-eyed. "Well, if I didn't see you, I didn't see you."

Professor McGonagall walked out of the library, leaving Albus and Scorpius staring after her with matching incredulous expressions.

"I can't believe that worked," said Albus, looking at Scorpius. Then he shook himself, and said, "How are we getting to your house?"

"Uh." Scorpius stopped. "I hadn't thought that far. Broomsticks?"

Albus snorted. Then he looked at Scorpius again, still half-laughing, and said, "Wait, wait, wait, you're serious?"

"I mean…"

"Scorpius. I can't fly. No offense, but you can't fly either. And all the way to your house? We'll fall out of the sky halfway there."

"Well, do you have any better ideas?"

Albus had nothing to say to that. Scorpius said, "My point."

* * *

Which was how half an hour later found Albus and Scorpius flying high over England, hair wild in the wind, screaming their lungs out. Or, well, that was just Albus.

"AAHHHHHH! THIS IS TERRIFYING!"

Go figure—the son of Harry Potter, afraid of flying and heightsof heights. Just another thing to add to the list.

"Don't worry!" yelled Scorpius. "We're almost there!"

"Thank Merlin!"

They touched down in Scorpius's backyard, hiding the broomsticks in the woods by Malfoy Manor.

"Dad shouldn't be home," said Scorpius quietly, as they crept into the building. "Come on, we have to go to the library. We have an archive of Greengrass history, my mom brought some books here when she moved in with Dad."

They snuck upstairs to the library, ducking behind statues and through secret passages every so often when they spotted a house-elf. Then together they entered the Malfoy library, staring up at the high shelves stuffed to the brim with books. Scorpius lead them to a shelf in the back corner of the room, labeled with a golden plaque engraved in cursive, "Greengrass History."

"Okay," said Scorpius, pulling down books, "go through the general history ones first, then the list of ancestors and their accomplishments?"

Cue a very boring study session, consisting of poring through old musty tomes. It took them about an hour before Scorpius finally sprang up from his position splayed out on the floor with a cry of "I got it!"

"Yeah?" said Albus, looking up.

"Okay, so see." Scorpius pointed at a page in the book. "Thank Merlin the Greengrasses are so strict about recording their past. Apparently this person named Silena was out drinking at a bar where Diagon Alley is today on New Year's 1581 and picked a fight with this other witch…"

* * *

"Albus, help me, this is terrifying," said Scorpius, moving closer to Albus as they navigated through the drunken crowd. Albus felt distinctly out of place among the people using ancient slang and dressed in very, very old-fashioned robes. "Let's just find my ancestor and save her already."

Except, when they made their way to the bar, people were already chanting in a ring, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Oh no," groaned Scorpius, as the two pushed through the crowd.

Silena Greengrass and another witch had given up on wands at this point, instead slinging punches at each other as the crowd cheered them on.

"No, no!" said Albus, moving forward. "How to we break them up?"

They glanced at each other, and the plan came to both of them at once.

"On three?"

"Yeah. One, two, three: _Stupefy!_ "

" _Stupefy!_ "

Twin bolts of red light flew toward the brawling women, and just in time—-Albus had seen the other witch reaching to pull out her wand.

"Break it up!" Scorpius yelled, as the crowd dispersed, grumbling. "Enough! Go home!"

"What do we do with them?" asked Albus.

"They're drunk, right?" said Scorpius, looking at the unconscious bodies at their feet. "If we just separate them then they probably won't remember each other when they wake up. Problem solved."

Albus muttered, " _Mobilicorpus,_ " and Levitated the other witch's body up, carrying her across the street and into a nearby inn. The owner didn't even look surprised at the fact that Albus had walked in with a knocked-out woman—he just gestured up the stairs, where Albus dumped her in a room.

When Albus returned to the area outside the alley, he found Scorpius, tapping his feet impatiently. Scorpius looked up when he saw Albus arrive.

"Are we ready to—"

The Time-Turner in Albus's pocket started ticking.

"Oh!" said Scorpius. "Hurry, take it out and put it around our necks, it probably has a time limit!"

A few more moments, and the two of them spun back into 2021.

* * *

Albus and Scorpius collapsed in a tiny passage between buildings in Diagon Alley. They stumbled to their feet, disoriented.

"Did it work?" asked Scorpius. They emerged into the main street of Diagon Alley. And then—

They heard a call.

"Scorpius!" said Astoria, running up to them. Scorpius looked dumbfounded. "What are you doing here? Hogwarts sent an owl and said you weren't—"

Scorpius hugged her tight.


	28. in this kingdom by the sea

**Season Seven, Round Five: in this kingdom by the sea**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. Title from "Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allen Poe.**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: (Phantom Zone/Prison Dimension) Write about a place where the worst criminals are imprisoned. Eg: Azkaban or The Raft (where the Marvel's most wanted criminals are imprisoned.)**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1091**

 **Beta'd By: SilvermistRuhi, emryses, Marvelgeek42, falling winter roses. Thank you all so much!**

* * *

Gunnar's having a perfectly nice, peaceful day catching fish in the North Sea. The water is calm, the sun is bright, the air is cool, and the wind is blowing in just the right direction. And to top it all off, he's caught a good load today.

Until all of a sudden the sky goes dark and cloudy, and rain starts pouring down in droves.

Gunnar tries to sail back into stiller seas, but the wind is blowing him inextricably deeper into the storm as lightning crashes and thunder rumbles, the waves tossing him up and down. The storm must be magic, because otherwise he'd have definitely seen the storm clouds above. He's frantic at this point—it was just supposed to be a fishing trip! His wife and children are waiting for him! He—

Then he sees a beacon, shining from up high and illuminating an island. _A lighthouse!_

"Help!" he yells, guiding his ship closer. " _Help!_ "

No response, but honestly, he wasn't expecting anything. A few harrowing minutes of wrestling his ship through the storm, and he manages to anchor his ship by the island.

It's…dark and foreboding. There's a lopsided tower with broken windows, reaching high into the clouds. The grass is dead and withered, and when lightning flashes behind the building, he can see vague silhouettes inside, human but not quite.

Gunnar takes a step back. He—he can find another way out.

That's when someone appears in front of him with a loud _Ccrack!_ that rends the air. He doesn't even have time to study the person before he hears, " _Avada Kedavra!_ " and a jet of green light soars toward him.

The light slams into his chest, and Gunnar crumples to the ground.

* * *

What—what's happening?

He looks down. Black, billowing robes float around him. And his _hands._ They're rotten and grey.

He's hungry. He's starving. Why is he starving?

There are more of him, floating through the building. Their breathing, along with his own, rattles and turns the air in front of their mouths icy. But he doesn't need to breathe. There's no sensation that goes with it, no feeling of sweet air filling his lungs—the action is only habit.

There's something. Something so good. He wants it, he _needs_ it _._

A man directs them forward, a human, but there's no need—he's already going, he's already there to see the woman standing on the shoreline and staring up at the tower with wide eyes.

He's the first one there, thank Ekrizdis—who?—so he lowers his face to the woman's and inhales.

Yes. _Yes,_ this soul, it's amazing. He loves the taste of the happy memories that spark flutters in his own mind, glimpses of tiny humans and pressing his mouth to a different woman's, not for the sake of sucking out her soul. He needs more of this, more, more, _more_ —

* * *

Years and years and years pass. Ekrizdis, their creator, disappears one day and others find their island. There are lots of delicious souls for a while, souls that make him _feel_ anything other than this perpetual inky numb, but they disappear too. Then even more years go by, and there are so many of _them_ and so few souls, they're so hungry, so, _so_ hungry—

One day they bring more humans in, and it's heaven. So many souls, so alive, so fiery, the insanity adds spice and it's an absolute _feast._ Some humans try to get away, but they never succeed—their souls are needed here. There's a brief period where a few are them are sent to the mainland to track down an escaped criminal, but it's only a fraction of their numbers that are allowed to go free. He stays on the island, wishing desperately to feast on the souls across the ever-stormy seas.

Until a boy appears, small and young and yet commanding and forceful.

"Join me," he says. "Join me, and you majestic creatures shall be able to feed all over England. You deserve more than to be locked away in Azkaban, letting your powers waste away. If we work together, you can have as many souls as you desire."

As many souls? Yes, yes, they follow him, they need the souls. So when the boy comes back, snakelike now and radiating evil magic, they follow what he says and let some prisoners—because according to the man, that's what they are—go, swarming out of the tower and flying to the mainland, buzzing with hunger and forming clouds of fog in their wake.

It's even more wonderful here. So many souls, so many humans to feed upon, so many beautiful happy memories of dancing and stars and _love,_ the elusive emotion that they don't understand but love the taste of anyway, they eat and eat and eat but even then it's not enough, they need more, _more,_ more than the snakelike man can provide. Instead of sending them out individually, he lets them roam free to feast on magical and mundane alike. Witches and wizards are better, the magic inside crackles and hisses and makes souls so much sweeter, but any souls are worth sucking up. The summer is bountiful—they eat and reproduce and eat and reproduce without having to follow the orders of the prison masters and find all the escaped

Then, the humans fight back. Not all of them can, just the magical ones, but glowing silver animals soar from the humans' wands to trap them between their jaws or stomp them with hooves, or even just swirl around, leaving trails of silvery light that sting to the touch. They flee from the creatures in terror, in pain, and the snakelike man berates them, but that doesn't matter, he's a human, mostly. He doesn't understand.

The snakelike man loses his war. They're fine with it, he didn't give them enough, he treated them like pawns in his silly little game.

But then the other humans try to round them up and send them back to the island. No, they can't return, there aren't enough souls there, so few souls is like _torture_ after these months of feasting. But they have the power of those creatures, they can't help but run away and let themselves be corralled back onto that tiny island in the middle of the sea.

This time, there are barriers around the island, with humans and their silver animals pushing them back into the prison. There are no souls, and no way to find even a taste of happiness. All that's left is the empty cold of soulless beings, wishing for more.


	29. undeath (and no, not like zombies)

**Season Seven, Round Six: undeath (and no, not like zombies)**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League.**

 **Disclaimers and Warnings:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt:** _ **Madness.**_ **Write about a character descending into madness of any kind.**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1858**

 **Beta'd By: falling winter roses, ginnys01, emryses, Marvelgeek42**

* * *

Fred watches over George after the Battle.

Okay, so technically he's not supposed to do it. Wizards can sort of sense spirits, even if they're not exactly aware that it's a _spirit_ that they're feeling. It can drive a person mad, apparently.

But since when have either of the Weasley twins followed the rules?

Answer: when they want to. And Fred sure as hell doesn't want to follow this rule.

And besides, he's careful; he avoids brushing against anything, and keeps his distance from George, no matter how much he wants to sit next to him or put an arm around his shoulder or _anything_ the surprisingly few times that George breaks down and cries in the emptiness of their flat. It's painful, but at least he's _there._ If he can't actually interact with George, so be it—I mean, he _is_ dead. It's not like he can actually _be there_ for his twin in any way other than spirit (ha, spirit).

For a while, the system works great. Well, as great as watching your twin grieve you and being unable to help whatsoever works, anyway.

Because being dead really, really sucks. It's not just the fact that you're, well, _dead;_ it's the fact that you have no choice but to sit and watch while everyone you love grieves and hurts and eventually has to move on without you. And you're just _stuck._

And it's especially bad when you have a twin. Fred and George used to do everything together, and that was only a very, very slight exaggeration. Now he has to watch while George finds a way to pick up the pieces—it's agonizing because he's right there, he's _right there,_ and yet he can do nothing but float by his twin's side (yes, float, apparently that's a thing he can do now). They were each other's go-to for comfort, the few times it was needed; every instinct is telling him to go to his twin and hug him and reassure him that things are gonna be fine.

But he deals. He has to, for George's sake especially.

Until one day Fred screws up, and things start to fall apart.

He's trying to walk past George in the thin hallway their rooms connect to, which he's done multiple times—what, he can't follow George around _all the time_ , sometimes he wants to go to his room for a bit. But what he _doesn't_ expect is for his shoulder to brush against George's, and George's head to jerk up, looking around.

 _Shit._

Thankfully, George just shakes his head and goes into his room. Fred manages to breathe—metaphorically, of course.

But it keeps happening. Even when Fred does nothing, touches nothing, George will look up and search around, and say aloud, "Is it—" he'll stutter over the name, then settle on "—you?"

Fred says nothing, of course. His purpose is to make sure George _moves on,_ not get stuck on grieving for him. But still, that one brush seemed to do it for George; he isn't discouraged whatsoever by the lack of response and tries, again and again, to contact him by any means necessary. He spends more hours in the lab; he even travels to the local bookstore to search for books about death, returning to their flat only in the early hours of the morning. Even the rest of the family and Lee and Angelina and Alicia and Katie are noticing how exhausted George looks, even more so than what they've gotten used to after Fred's death—they ask him how he's holding up, but George says nothing but a short "Fine."

At this point, Fred makes a decision.

So when George finally falls asleep, Fred pushes himself into the dream. He told himself he wouldn't intervene, that his contact was what had started this whole mess in the first place, but who better to help a Weasley twin than a Weasley twin?

It's...surprisingly peaceful. None of the crazy explosions or wild shenanigans or hot girls that pervade Fred's dreams; George is just sitting, quietly, by the pond outside the Burrow. Fred goes to sit beside him, and George looks up.

"Hey," Fred says, and George seems unable to do anything but blink and stare.

Then he says, "I knew it, I can talk to you!"

"What?"

"Okay, okay," George says, standing up and pacing, "how did you do this? Maybe I can—"

"I—" Then Fred cuts off. "No, you can't keep getting hung up on this, you have to let me go."

"Wh—what?" George stops, looking like he's been punched. "Let you go?"

"Exactly," Fred says. "This is hurting you, I'm already dead, you have to—"

George steps away, covering his ear and the hole on the other side of his head. "You're not Fred," he mutters, "he'd want me to find a way…"

Fred feels a sucking in his gut, then he's back in George's bedroom, staring helplessly at the silent form of his twin, whose face is scrunched up almost in pain.

It only gets worse from there. Especially when Harry makes the mistake of mentioning the Resurrection Stone from the Tale of the Three Brothers, which apparently is real. Fred knows George knows the path that Harry took through the forest, or at least the general idea, so nothing's stopping him from going and trying to find it.

Fred isn't sure how the Stone works. Will he be able to resist being summoned? Can someone appear in his place, maybe? Or will it yank him there against his will?

The latter, apparently.

George Apparates to Hogsmeade then walks the rest of the way to Hogwarts, Fred trailing helplessly behind. It's not like he can stop him, interacting with the living world is what got him into his mess in the first place. Smoothly, George says to Hagrid—who's guarding the gate—that he wants to walk through Hogwarts and think of his memories of Fred in hopes to maybe feel better, and Hagrid, tearing up, lets him in.

George looks around. When he sees no one watching him, he darts to the Forbidden Forest and walks back and forth across the front of it, searching for the spot where Hagrid brought Harry's seemingly dead body out, then entering the forest once he finds it. Somehow Fred can sense the magic of the Stone; it tugs somewhere deep in his stomach, its aura buzzes through his veins the closer he gets to it. Despairingly, he watches as George gets closer and closer to it, using his wand to clear the litter from the path. Fred's face falls while George's lights up when he finds the Stone sitting innocently on the ground.

George carefully picks it up and brushes the dirt off it. Then he turns it over once, twice, a third time, then—

Fred chokes, and suddenly his body is far more corporeal. Which still isn't very corporeal, but it's disorienting after so much time of floating, weightless—he falls to the ground and stumbles from the added mass.

"It worked!" George says, sounding brighter than he had in months. "Okay, come on, let's—"

"No, don't you remember the story?" Fred says. Already he feels heavier, and not just in the literal sense he was talking about earlier. "You can't keep me here like this, we'll both go mad."

George's expression darkens. "Really?" he says. "What if I just keep you here in bursts, would that—"

"George, that's not the point," Fred says. He hates being the responsible one, but: "This has to stop."

"Stop?" George repeats. "No, there's a way somehow, if not the Stone then—"

"George—"

"Shut up! I know those Muggles have the, uh, the things, those boards? And maybe I can add a magical aspect—"

"You—"

George lets out a frustrated noise, then drops the stone; Fred feels himself turning back into a spirit, floating up once again to watch as George realizes what he's done and looks down to see that the Stone isn't by his feet. Fred's relieved, but George's face goes through twenty million emotions as first he scours the entire area with his wand, then drops to his hands and knees to look, muttering, "Shit, no, no, where is it…?"

Fred thanks whatever higher beings took away the Stone as finally, after hours pass, George is forced to give up his search and leave after Hagrid comes after him and tells him that it's getting late. Forcing a smile, George says, "Thanks," and almost runs out of the castle grounds; stumbling on his half-turn, George Disapparates, reappearing in the empty shop, shoulders slumping.

Fred feels almost guilty, seeing how defeated his twin looks as he goes upstairs and collapses in bed. But he tells himself that this is better in the long run, that eventually George will learn to move on.

But he doesn't. George does what he talked about and buys a "ouija board", a Muggle device apparently used to talk to ghosts, then tinkers with it in his spare time between running the shop; Verity, their assistant, and Lee, who'd taken a temporary position at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes while he looked for a job, notice nothing off—Fred wants to scream.

(He does scream, actually, because he's a spirit—not a ghost, he hasn't exactly _returned_ all the way, he can go back to the afterlife whenever he wants—and no one can hear him other than the tiny child or two that's intuitive and young enough to sense things the grown-ups can't, and even then they only glance around for a second.)

Because how can Verity and Lee not see that George is destroying himself? He's pushing himself to overwork, he's gotten to the point where he visits Knockturn Alley on the regular to search for books on necromancy. _Necromancy!_ Hadn't they sworn that they'd never touch the truly Dark stuff?

Fred can do nothing but watch as George wields the Dark enchantments, and he can feel George's soul crumbling at the edges as he casts spell after spell on the board in hopes that something will work.

Or, no. That's not quite accurate. They're not stupid—George does a lot of research, is careful with the spells to make sure they combine correctly and produce the result he wants without blowing himself up in the process. He was always the one to make their products work, after all; Fred had many of the ideas, but George was the one to make them a reality through his patient dedication. Honestly, Fred has no clue what George is even trying to do with the board until a couple of weeks later, when he installs a little lens on it and casts a final spell and says, "Fred?"

Fred feels himself being sucked in, then he's hovering above the ouija board while George looks on in victory.

"It worked!"

"What?" Fred twists, but he's stuck. "George, you can't do this—"

"Of course I can, I just did," says George. He picks up the board, taking Fred's torso along with it. "How about we—"

"But I can't—"

"Shh," says George, and he sounds like a stranger. "I figured it out, and now you can stay."


	30. Detention!

**Season Seven, Round Seven: Detention!**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League.**

 **Disclaimers:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Write about the consequences of breaking a rule or law**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1130**

 **Beta'd By: falling winter roses,**

* * *

"Okay." James waved his wand, and the last layer of enchantment fell into place over the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. "That should do it."

The Marauders—James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew—had just put the finishing touches on a prank on the Slytherins; when they'd sit down to eat tomorrow at breakfast, their plates full of food would spring up and fling food into their faces, leaving rainbow colors dripping down their faces along with any sauces and crumbs from the food. Now, all the Marauders had to do was go back up to the dorm unseen, and then they could reap the reward of seeing the humiliated faces of the Slytherins.

Which turned out to be way more difficult than expected.

Even with the secret hallways scattered throughout Hogwarts, for whatever reason, there were twice as many professors and Prefects patrolling the passages (ha, alliteration!)—before, this would have been no problem, the four of them squishing in under James's Invisibility Cloak and sneaking carefully past anyone on patrol. But as they were—sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds in their sixth year—only two people at most could fit under the Cloak, the other two having to rely on stealth and Disillusionment Charms in order to remain unseen.

Today it was Remus and Sirius avoiding the wrath of the patrols through their own wit and wiles, James and Peter ducking past the Prefect on duty in the hallway they were in (a Slytherin, _ugh_ ) from underneath the Invisibility Cloak—or at least, that was what Remus _thought_ they were doing, since he couldn't exactly see them.

Remus tapped himself on the head with his wand, shivering at the dripping feeling down his neck as he pressed back into a shadowed corner behind a statue, which shifted itself to cover him with a subtle wink. Beside him, his boyfriend did the same, nudging their shoulders together. Remus turned to him and grinned as the charm flowed its way down Sirius's face until his

playful expression was rendered invisible.

Carefully, Remus poked his head out from around the statue, holding his breath, and next to him he could feel Sirius's shoulder brushing against his as they watched the Prefect turn away.

They took the opportunity to dash for the secret passageway hidden behind a tapestry, but the Prefect turned to look straight at them. It must've been the rustling of their robes combined with the slight shimmering that came from the Disillusionment Charm's imperfect invisibility.

" _Finite Incantatem,_ " the Prefect cast, and again, " _Finite Incantatem!"_

Before Remus or Sirius could dodge the beams of light, they struck them in the chest and caused their bodies to reappear in ripples.

"Now," the Prefect started as their bodies slowly became visible, "wh—"

He looked up to see the fully-reformed Remus and Sirius, who were standing and fidgeting just enough in that way that made you look totally casual, as if you didn't care about a thing, _especially_ not the person who was talking right in front of you.

"Just _typical,_ " the Prefect said. "It's you two."

"Yep!" Sirius said cheerfully, and the Prefect scowled harder.

"I swear to Merlin, if I show up to breakfast tomorrow and there's even the _tiniest_ thing off—"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Remus cut him off. "'You'll sorely regret it,' 'you're dead,' et cetera et cetera et cetera."

"Detention!" the Prefect snapped, red sparks flying from his wand. "A week of scrubbing the Entry Hall by hand. Starting tomorrow, nine PM sharp. Be there."

"Aw, really?" Sirius began.

" _Two weeks._ "

* * *

Nine PM the next day, Remus and Sirius stood at the opening of the Entrance Hall, still letting out laughter every so often at the memories of the Slytherins' faces at breakfast. It had just made Filch _less_ pleased with them, for he was the one, along with the house-elves, who had to clean all the food residue that had splashed on the floor.

"You two," Filch snapped, pushing old rags into their hands, "are going to be scrubbing this entire hall clean. _By hand._ No magic!" He smirked. "With so many students returning from Hogsmeade, it's covered in mud. The house-elves will watch you—if I see even a _speck_ of dirt…"

Which found Remus and Sirius on their hands and knees, dipping the rags into buckets of soapy water and scrubbing hard at the floor. House-elves stood nearby, but no matter how sympathetic they looked, they didn't touch the ground with their magic at all, only wiping clean the statues. Remus supposed they were ordered not to help, because otherwise house-elves tended to like them.

"This is so boring," Sirius whined not even five minutes in. "Can't we do something else?"

"We're in _detention,_ " Remus said, half-laughing. "What else are we supposed to do?"

"I dunno, _something!_ "

"What, rock-paper-scissors?"

At this point, Sirius was just sitting back on his knees, the rag dangling unused from his hand. Remus, meanwhile, kept scrubbing, because if they had to clean, they might as well just get it over with.

"What?" said Sirius.

"What?"

"What's rock-paper-scissors?"

Remus looked up at him. Sirius looked completely earnest.

"Wait," said Remus. "You don't know what rock-paper-scissors is?"

"No?" said Sirius slowly. "What, is it some Muggle thing?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, but—" Remus fumbled. "I figured it was also a thing in the wizarding world! How do you break ties? How do you—okay, you know what, I'm teaching you."

He sat up to look properly at Sirius, who was looking amused.

"So basically, you have three hand signs, rock, a fist, paper, a flat palm, and scissors, basically a peace sign. Rock beats scissors, scissors beats—"

"Do I see slacking off?" demanded the loud voice of Filch, and Remus and Sirius jumped. "Why, I should extend—"

Remus and Sirius grabbed their pieces of cloth and got back to scrubbing the ground hard enough that Filch eventually slowed his ranting to leave and go do…whatever he was doing. The two of them glanced at each other. Then they burst out laughing.

"I can't believe—"

Sirius leaned forward and kissed him. Which was nice, but Sirius didn't pull away, only making it deeper.

"What, are we gonna do this _here?_ " Remus said, pulling back. " _Now?_ "

"The house-elves aren't paying attention," Sirius pointed out. "So…"

He connected their lips again, and Remus wasn't complaining. He didn't know exactly how long they kissed, putting down the rags and scooting closer to deepen the kisses, but it was at least a few minutes before—

"Second time!" Filch growled, and Remus and Sirius sprung apart. " _Second time_ I catch you two—you two— _not cleaning!_ Extra detention!"

He hobbled off furiously. Remus and Sirius exchanged looks.

"Well," said Sirius, "now that he's gone…"

Remus laughed, and leaned forward to kiss him once more.


	31. theycantstopusboth

**Season Seven, Round Eight: #theycantstopusboth**

 **A/N: For the Quidditch League. take this stupid au**

 **Disclaimers:**

 **\- I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **\- I know nothing about what the inside of Area 51 looks like or works so all that comes from my imagination**

 **Team: Puddlemere United**

 **Position: Keeper**

 **Position Prompt: The High Priestess —** **Upright:** **Intuitive, Unconscious, Inner Voice**

 **Word Count (Minus A/N): 1313**

 **Beta'd By: falling winter roses, ginnys01**

* * *

Sirius is still high on the exhilaration when he first hears the voice.

" _Sirius…_ "

At first he just thinks it's nothing—only his brain making up things. But then the voice comes again:

" _Sirius!_ "

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking _shit!_

So he only showed up for the hell of it, right? Like, it wasn't that long of a drive to Nevada, so why not? He, James, and Peter were all supposed to be part of the Area 51 raid, actually, but James and Peter ditched at the last second—James because Lily put her foot down told him that it was "idiotic" to actually go and that he'd probably get "killed" and "shot down by the military", and Peter…well, Peter just chickened out. Sirius wasn't about to ditch because his friends did, so he came here and took a place among the Naruto runners. And now, what the fuck, they actually made it in.

And now he has the sneaking suspicion that there's an alien in his brain.

" _Not in your brain, stupid,_ " the voice says, jolting Sirius out of his thoughts. In a way—because it's still words in his head, just not his own. " _I'm using telepathy._ "

"Wait, you speak English?"

" _A lot of time trapped in a lab with English-speaking scientists gives you ample time to learn the language._ "

Sirius had no clue that he'd _actually_ be freeing an alien. He only showed up for the meme!

" _Good for you,_ " the voice says. " _Now get me out of here! I'm planting my location in your brain—just follow your instincts and you'll find me on your own._ "

Sirius feels for whatever instincts the voice is telling him about, and comes up with nothing.

" _You can't think about it, idiot, you have to just let it happen._ "

"Well, I'm sorry!" Sirius says, not sorry at all, "but I've never had an alien give me subconscious instructions on how to save it before!"

" _I've never given subconscious instructions on how to save me to a human, so suck it up._ "

"Ouch, okay."

Sirius starts running, and makes random turns that feel less-than-random. Oh. _This_ must be what the alien meant.

" _Call me Remus._ "

"What, is that 'the closest English approximation' to your name?"

" _No, I just like the way it sounds._ "

"Fair enough."

A few more twists and turns, and Sirius comes across a scientist, who's armed with a microscope. Sirius takes a few steps back.

"Hey," he says, and his tone slides from bright to seductive. Look, he doesn't know what to do! He's just doing the first thing that comes to mind, which happens to be being flirty.

"I'm a lesbian," the scientist says, raising the microscope like it's a gun. "With a girlfriend. Somehow," she adds under her breath.

Shit, _that_ was a fail.

 _What do I do?_ he asks Remus, who is hopefully still there.

" _Um. Run?_ "

 _Thanks for the great advice._

Sirius makes a break for it, dodging the microscope thrown at him and sprinting down the hallway, turning wherever the hell his body wants him to.

" _She's gone,_ " Remus tells him a few forks in the hall later, and Sirius skids to a stop, panting. " _Better make it quick, though, another scientist might find you—they're dealing with the runners outside as far as I can hear, but you don't have that much time._ "

"Am I close to your chamber or whatever?" Sirius says.

A pause. And then Remus says, " _Yeah, almost there. Just take another...left?_ "

"Did you just forget that I can't see you and try to nod?"

" _Shut up and free me already._ "

"That wasn't a no!" Sirius sings, but starts down the hall again, taking the left and seeing—

About a _million_ doorways. Sirius stops, staring at the hallway lined with doors.

"Which one?" he asks.

" _I'm about a meter from you and on the left. Once you get in, I'll show you what button to press to let me out of my chamber. Don't worry, the room I'm in is empty._ "

Sirius uses his memories of using meter sticks as swords and fencing with James in middle school to guesstimate the distance. He turns and opens the door.

" _Wait—_ "

A group of scientists is standing inside, crowded around an operating table—some vaguely humanoid blue thing is on it, seemingly passed out but thankfully untouched. The scientists look up in unison when Sirius walks in the room, and slowly lift up surgical blades.

 _I thought you said your room was empty!_

" _Um. I might have…mixed up my left and your left? Look, we don't tell directions like that in my culture!_ "

 _Well, fuck!_

" _Just make a run for it!_ " Remus hisses. " _My room's right across the hall and it locks from the inside, not even the scientists can get in as long as you don't unlock it._ "

Sirius nods minutely, then bolts, running across to Remus's room and slamming the heavy metal door shut, turning the lock he spots and pushing a nearby chair in front of it for good measure.

Once he's sure it's secure, Sirius turns around.

A grey-skinned alien floats in a tube filled with some viscous liquid radiating sickly green light, eyes closed. A computer is on the desk next to it, a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet open on the screen filled with color-coded cells.

" _That's me,_ " Remus says, almost...ashamed? Sirius thinks? " _Shut up, Sirius, now there should be buttons on the side of my tube. Two of them: red and green. Press the green one, because that drains the liquid and opens up a panel on the front of the tube—the red one will instakill me, so obviously don't push that one._ "

"Right, okay," Sirius says. He slowly goes up to the tube, sudden fear striking him.

He's talking to an alien. He's releasing it from Area 51, or at least he will if he clicks the right button. Just yesterday his life was completely normal—Marlene's birthday was yesterday, actually, and their entire friend group went to a gay bar to celebrate; Marlene managed to score this really hot girl and ended up dancing with her all night. Sirius was planning on unwinding at home with a good Netflix series and a party-sized bag of Doritos after he got home from the Area 51 raid, because after almost twelve hours straight of action a guy deserves a break, but now—now he's going to (probably) be bringing an alien home.

" _What are you waiting for?_ " Remus says, snapping Sirius out of his thoughts, and he hopes Remus wasn't reading his mind during his inner monologue. " _You see the green button?_ "

"Yeah."

There's a small, steel black panel screwed to the base of the tube, red and green plastic buttons on it making the panel look like it has eyes. Sirius hesitates over the green button.

"You're sure this is the right one?"

" _Positive. I've read the scientists' minds. Now push it."_

"Ahh, push it real good!"

Then Sirius presses the button.

Immediately, there's a hissing sound, and then the liquid level lowers and lowers. When it drains past Remus's head, his eyes snap open, and they're a brilliant amber. Remus starts wiggling his limbs once they're freed too, and he stumbles as he steps out of the tube when a pane of glass swings open in the front.

"I'm free," Remus says out loud, almost in awe. Then again, "I'm free!"

Sirius laughs at his childlike delight. "Hell yeah you are! Now come on, let's get out of here. You can walk, right?"

"I think so," Remus says. He has this strange, almost otherworldly accent, but freaking _duh_. "But wait, aren't the scientists still outside?"

"Ha ha…probably?"

"Great."

"Don't worry," says Sirius. "I'll make sure you get home. I swear it."

Remus...smiles. It makes him look so much more friendly. But there's also an undercurrent of gratitude there. "Thanks."

"No problemo."


End file.
